Emotional Healing
by InMyEyes2014
Summary: Life as the Savior isn't easy for Emma Swan, who must learn to navigate life with those she loves. Is she ready to heal or will it take something more to convince her that the life she deserves is in her grasp? May change in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1 - Smiles

Her smiles came easier, as did her laughter. That was the first thing that people who had known her beforehand noticed. There were still the bitingly sarcastic remarks and the eye rolls when someone annoyed her. But they were usually punctuated with a forgiving grin or even sometimes a giggle.

That wasn't to say that anyone ever mistook Emma Swan for an optimist. She was far from that, as even her family had to admit. Dark clouds still floated over her and she struggled some days to understand how exactly she deserved even a modicum of the happiness she was now experiencing. There were days when she was sure that it would all come tumbling down if she even breathed in the wrong way, but those days were coming less often now.

Her son, Henry, climbed up onto one of the stools at Granny's and ordered their usual after school snack of grilled cheese and a cup of soup. It had become habit for him to meet her there, allowing them both a moment to decompress before the evening's activities of homework, readying for the next day, and family obligations overtook them. She slid next to him and nodded affirmatively at his selections.

"School going okay?" she asked, breaking a part the sandwich and dipping a corner into the soup. "Nothing that I need to be alerted to right now, right?"

"A's mostly," he mumbled through the sticky cheese. "B in math and geography, but I can…"

She cocked her eyebrow at him. "I'm guessing a D in table manners," she said. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

He swallowed hard and took a sip of the sugary soda. "Sorry," he said, and then repeated the list of grades with a promise that the B's would be pulled up by the next report card. His eyes narrowed at the light way she nibbled, a move unlike one he had seen from her. "You already had lunch?"

She stopped. "You need a hobby," she muttered. "I think letting you hang out at the sheriff's office is turning you into a suspicious little…"

"Killian, right?"

Another smile, followed by an apologetic one. "He brought me lunch today," she explained. "I ate with him, but I didn't explain that I was also eating with you. God knows I'll end up fat if I keep trying to pull this off."

"We don't have to eat together," he said, reminding her that they had this conversation just a few days earlier. "It's not a thing."

"It is a thing," she argued. "We have lunch together every day after school, no matter what. If you think that I'm going to skip it so I can save a few calories, you're mistaken."

He brushed a few dark strands of hair out of his eyes and smiled back. While most teenagers were mortified to have one on one time with their mother in public, he still enjoyed that time of the day. A few years ago he had a lonely existence as the adopted son of the city's mayor. Now he had his adopted mother, his birth mom, a set of grandparents, and his biological grandfather all clamoring to spend time with him.

"How was work?"

"The normal," she said with a laugh at calling anything in their town normal. "A drunk dwarf, a lost fairy, and a missing book from the library were the highlights today. Oh, and Pongo got loose and turned over half the garbage cans downtown again."

His plate was practically empty when he spun on his stool and leaned a head on his hand. "So when were you planning to tell me?"

She looked shocked. "Tell you what?"

A forced laugh escaped his throat.

"Seriously," she said. "Tell you what?"

Henry took his finger and pointed at a newspaper folded on the counter. Headlines indicated that someone had broken into three houses recently and at least four people were missing. "You suspect my grandfather, don't you?"

She sighed and placed her hands on the edge of the counter. "That's the easy assumption. Lots of people have suggested that Gold could have something to do with this, but there isn't any evidence of that."

"Of course there isn't," Henry said. "I just don't think that he did anything. He's changed. I mean really changed this time."

Emma wasn't altogether sure that she believed such change was possible. Sure someone could become a better person. But a complete 180 when someone had been as devious and evil as Gold had been seemed unlikely. She wished she had her son's optimism. "Like I said," she explained. "I don't see any evidence at this point that would say otherwise. I'm looking into it."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but she saw the shadow cross his face as the familiar lilt of an accent greeted them both. Henry turned on the stool and gave a short wave to Killian, who stood next to Emma with his hand on her shoulder. "I should go," he said more to the plate than to his mother. "My mom said she wanted to talk to me about maybe going out for soccer or something."

Emma nodded again, having already had the conversation with Regina about Henry's lack of afterschool activities. He was working Gold's shop and spent hours on homework each night, but beyond that he did precious little with his free time. Most of it was spent in the company of other adults, which made both mother's worry about his lack of age appropriate friends and social activities. "Might be fun," she added hopefully. "Or maybe a club or something?"

He rolled his eyes and pushed the hair back out of his face. "I'd rather not."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, kissed Emma's cheek, shot another wave at Killian, and was out the door in a hurry. She watched him go and sighed again as she reached up to squeeze Killian's hand.

"He looks like you when he does that," Killian said with a laugh. "The eye roll thing is you, love."

Emma couldn't help but agree. Henry may not have been with her that long, but there were aspects of his personality that were frighteningly familiar. There was the way he tilted his head like his father. There was the exaggerated shoulder slump when he dreaded something. They were all just small things, but they all made her smile in recognition of the connection. He had picked up on some of Regina's mannerisms too, but it was the little ones that reminded her of herself that stood out.

She stayed longer than she meant, but that was the way things had gone lately. If she and Killian crossed paths, she was finding more and more excuses to stay with him rather than return to work or even home. So she wasn't shocked when she returned to the station to find her father, David Nolan, packing his things up for the evening. Ducking her head apologetically, she slid into her chair and booted up the computer. "Sorry," she muttered.

David cracked a grin and dropped a file on her desk. "No apologies and no details," he said to her. "I'm headed out, but there is the file I've been reading. Not sure what to make of it."

Emma nodded slowly and lifted the file up between her fingers. Her father had already told her that he had no real issue with her dating, but that it was more of a don't ask don't tell situation. He did not want to imagine the actual thoughts going through his daughter's mind when she smiled or why Killian could make her blush with what appeared to be a simple smile or a hello. Happiness was one thing, but the mechanics of it were far beyond whatever he wanted to know about her.

"I'm going to turn the calls over about 10 and maybe try to catch a few hours of sleep," she told him. "Should be a slow night."

"So you'll be home about…"

Her eyes darted down before he finished the question. "I'll be home later tonight."

He didn't question it and she didn't offer an explanation. Instead he patted her shoulder and reached for his coat. He could have backed into it, asked her if they should wait up or if she would like him to bring her dinner. She would see through those tactics and he preferred to be kept in the dark. "I'm going to head out. Call if anything comes up."

She lifted the hand radio and nodded. "Got you right here."

A soft stillness had settled over the loft and only the shards of the light from a nearby streetlamp seemed to penetrate the fortress of brick walls and thick glass windows. From her spot on the couch, Mary Margaret Nolan sat wrapped in a soft blue robe and cradled her son to her chest. She could keep an eye on everything from that one spot. From her husband sleeping peacefully across the way to her daughter and Elsa upstairs in their beds, she knew that it was a peaceful and quiet tranquility that was all too rare in Storybrooke these days.

These early morning hours were the only peace she had known lately, as their lives had become a catalyst for chaos when they were all awake. But still when she heard the footsteps growing louder, Mary Margaret did not react badly. She stifled a yawn and looked in the direction of the stairs to see Emma, her blonde daughter, descending. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked cautiously keeping her tone low.

If Emma was surprised to see her awake at such an hour, she did not express it. Instead the woman chose a seat next to a space heater and folded her legs up under her. "Anxious, I guess," she muttered.

"Makes sense," she answered back. "I didn't hear you come in last night."

Emma almost snorted a laugh, but changed it to a cough when she realized her mother was only half joking. "I got back about 1 and it's 5 now so four hours of sleep isn't too bad considering."

Mary Margaret groaned. "I would kill for that many hours of sleep in a row," she admitted, smiling down at her son in her arms. Then she looked up and smiled at her daughter. "Did everything go well tonight though? What did you guys…"

Through the soft light in the window, she could tell her daughter was blushing. "I don't think I'm ready for this conversation," Emma declared. "Besides. You already grilled me for half an hour before I left this morning. It wasn't a date, date. It was more of a… It was just…"

The mother nodded furiously. "I know. I know."

Emma looked a bit regretful that she had snapped at her mother. "It was nice," she finally admitted in a low tone. "More than nice."

Mary Margaret went to open her mouth with a quick trill broke through the silence. She watched as Emma fumbled for the cell phone that had been sitting in the pocket of her pajamas and then smiled at the screen. It was just a glimpse though, as the blonde quickly pocketed the device as soon as she realized her mother was watching.

"More than nice is a good start," she stated, struggling to get to her feet. "And you should answer him back before he thinks you're avoiding him."

Opening her mouth to protest, she quickly smiled again. "Got it. Don't make him think that I'm avoiding him." Her fingers flew back into her pocket much to her mother's amusement.

Mary Margaret walked into the kitchen and began filling the red kettle with water. It wasn't an easy task to do while still holding a sleeping baby in her arms, but she managed. And truth be told even managed to watch her daughter curl up in the chair and whisper softly to the phone. Though she couldn't make out the words, she swore she even heard her daughter emit what sounded vaguely like a giggle.


	2. Chapter 2 - Fear

Thanks for the reviews and the follows. I do have a plan for the story, but for now I am trying to let us get into the minds of the characters a little bit. Obviously, I don't own anything associated with the show, but I couldn't help but take some of them out to play with on here.

_Fear has a smell, as Love does_ – Margaret Atwood

Emma Swan had many fears, but she rarely showed those signs of weakness. She hated clowns, detested spiders and cringed at most reptiles. Those were closely guarded secrets, as she knew that people could use that information against her as evidenced in her foster home days. One of the boys who lived in a group home with her had found out about the fear of clowns and proceeded to place pictures of clowns or small stuffed versions of the heavily disguised pranksters in various corners of the home. Every place she turned there were eyes looking back at her from faces of painted features. She knew her fears were silly, but they still haunted her because they were her burden to bear. In the short time she had been in Storybrooke, she had managed to avoid the subject all together. After all, few people would trust a sheriff who ran from the room at the sight of a cobweb.

That's why when Killian had suggested they take a look in the storage closet at city hall for some of the missing records, she had felt her stomach drop. She had stood in its doorway once, observing the musty scent and boxes stacked higher than her head. Clenching her hands into fists, she tried desperately for 15 seconds to come up with an excuse. She was tired. She had been through them already. Or maybe she was allergic to dust. However, he looked at her so hopefully and determined that she felt guilty. For a week now he'd carried every single box from the files to her desk. He'd fetched her coffee and hot chocolate, distracted her when her leads came up short, and entertained her during lunch when she was ready to cry from being overwhelmed. So when he asked, proud of his idea, she had to say yes.

The first few minutes weren't bad. He joked about their search and she silently prayed that all eight legged creatures would stay away. He was telling her a silly story about some of his crew becoming disoriented and falling overboard during an adventure in some oddly named realm. She had even managed a laugh or two before she saw it. While it barely the size of a nail head, she would later swear that it was larger than her palm. And from the screams of terror that she emitted while clinging to Killian's right shoulder, he would have assumed it was the scariest monster she had faced.

"What is it, love?" he asked, fighting back a laugh at her display. "Show me."

She opened her mouth, but clamped her jaws shut again. A shaking finger pointed toward the lid where she had seen the eight legged creature.

Using his last ounce of self control, he did not laugh when he saw it. Instead he scooped it up and stared at it with an amused expression. "This is what got you to scream like that?"

Emma closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. "Please just get rid of it."

"You shoot snow monsters, send ice queens flying back with your magic, end curses, take on dangerous criminals with your wit alone, and this is what has you in hysterics?"

She leaned against the wall, her arms curling around herself. "I hate them. Please, just…"

"Gone," he said. "I'll rid you of this demon."

When he returned to the room she had not moved. Her eyes were furtively sneaking glances at the other boxes and her fingers rubbed up and down her arms from her position. He gently took her left hand in his right, watching her reaction carefully. She certainly allowed it, but her expression was no less pained.

"This can't all be about a spider," he prodded gently. "Surely you must have other reasons."

"Can't we just say that I hate spiders?"

Leaning back on his heels, he thought for a moment. "Would you prefer I finish up in here so that you don't have to deal with any others that might be lurking around?"

She shook her head violently at first, then more slowly. "Pretty silly, isn't it?" she finally mumbled. "I'm pretty weak to be scared of something like that."

He was about to tell her that he thought it was adorable and that anything that made her clutch to him like she had was not all bad. But he thought better of it. "I don't think you're weak, Swan," he said with a squeeze to her hand. "I've seen you take on more danger and peril than most grown men who claim to be fearless warriors. It isn't just a show of your force or your abilities either. It isn't even something you brag about, though I doubt many would blame you if you did. It is always done to protect those you love and respect. So no, I don't find you weak at all."

Her smile was short lived and wavering. "I've always been afraid of them," she admitted. "I couldn't even enjoy Charlotte and her friendship with Wilbur when I was in school."

"And these were friends of yours?"

She chuckled, remembering that he rarely understood her pop culture references. "It was a book about a pig and a spider," she said. "I just don't feel very brave when I scream and practically cry at the sight of such things."

"We all have fears, love," he told her. "Everyone does."

She looked down at their entwined hands and tried to ignore the fact that even that was one of her fears. Not the hand holding, but what it meant. She did not usually do long term anything. She had moved frequently and never kept in touch with anyone, despite promises to the contrary. If this had been three years ago, she would have probably met Killian at a bar, had a great night of sex, and given him a fake phone number the next morning if he caught her sneaking out the door. But here she was in a town where she was contemplating housing, holding a job, having regular family dinners, sharing custody of her son, and dating a pirate. Fear was a component of that just from the oddity of it. "Even you," she finally said in a muted tone. "You're scared of something?"

She watched something unsaid flash over his eyes before he finally spoke. "Aye, there are plenty of things that scare me," he finally admitted. "Though I can't promise that any of them would send me into your arms for protection."

She laughed. "Tell me one."

"That contraption your mother uses to make bread hot," he said with his devilish smile. "That is the most forbidding of all the appliances that I have come across so far. Not only does it seem like some form of dark magic that would allow such a tiny device to heat with some unseen fire, but it turns those slices of bread into projectiles with absolutely no notice at all."

"You're scared of a toaster?" she said, giggling. "A toaster?"

"It is bigger than a spider," he said with a chuckle. "So I would say that my fear is just as valid as yours."

Leaning toward him, she gave a quick brush of her lips against his. "Don't worry," she said with mock seriousness. "Next time you come over for breakfast, I'll protect you. I'll even show you something scarier."

"Scarier than that contraption?"

She nodded seriously. "Canned biscuits," she said. "When that can pops open, you'll be jumping into my arms."

***AAA***

Emma's eyes were drooping as she fingered the last few pages of the report that her father had written up of his search of the records. The words on the page swam and she involuntarily yawned. Giving in to the exhaustion, she closed the brown folder and placed it on her night stand and was reaching for the light when she heard Henry call out.

His voice was a mixture of confusion and panic as he repeated the word no in quick succession. As she reached his bedside, he was curled up tightly and his face scrunched in agony. She gently reached out to shake his shoulder, waking him from what was obviously a nightmare.

While she still had her fake memories of raising her son, she had to admit that moments like this were rare. She had not chased away the monsters of his dreams. She had never hovered over him as he slept fitfully or let him curl up in her lap as a toddler. The boundaries that now existed between the preteen and her were pretty solid and served their purpose, but moments like this made it seem as though he was still the little boy she'd never had the chance to mother.

"Sounds like you had a bad dream," she said when the confusion of why she was waking him up left his eyes."

His eyes looked big in the low light of the room. He nodded. "I kept seeing…" He stopped. "I don't want to think about it."

She nodded solemnly and looked back at the door to the hallway. "Understood," she said. Taking a step back, she saw that his fists were clenching the blanket and he was chewing at his lip. "Scoot over."

"What?"

"Scoot over," she repeated. "I'm about to fall asleep standing here so the least you can do is make room for your mom. I'm going to sit here with you while you get back to sleep."

"I'm not a kid," he said, but shifted over so that his mom to could fit next to him. He actually smiled when she threw herself down on top of the covers and pulled him to her side. "David…Grandpa…he lit a candle once to help me not feel scared."

"I could do that. Want me to find a candle?"

Henry looked thoughtful. "No, it isn't necessary," he said. "Besides you're already here."

She opened her mouth to respond when she heard the soft knocking at Henry's door. Looking up she saw her own mother standing there.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mary Margaret said. "I heard Henry and thought that I might be of some help." Without waiting to be asked, the woman apprised the situation, rooted through the bottom drawer of the dresser for a blanket to cover her daughter, and took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"So I know now that David lights candles for nightmares, what do you do?" Emma asked.

"I thought I'd tell Henry a story," Mary Margaret said softly. "Since you're in here, I'll tell you both a story."

Henry, who was looking calmer, laughed tightly at the idea of his young grandmother telling his grown up mother story. But he didn't protest, snuggling into Emma's side and feeling her even begin to relax as Mary Margaret cleared her throat and settled herself against the foot of the bed.

Her story wasn't the most creative, but she spoke in a low melodic tone that did not scare him with tales of villains or angst. As she continued she noticed that both her daughter and grandson's eyes were becoming heavier as they began to succumb to the sleep they both needed. Even when their even breathing and relaxed bodies indicated that sleep was upon them, she stayed there in her spot and watched them both until slumber claimed her too.


	3. Chapter 3 - Lonely and Family

Thanks for the reviews and the follows. I do have a plan for the story, but for now I am trying to let us get into the minds of the characters a little bit. Obviously, I don't own anything associated with the show, but I couldn't help but take some of them out to play with on here.

A reviewer pointed out that I had Emma calling David by his name rather than Dad. Yes, I did that on purpose. To me she still struggles with that. She uses it in some moments, but other times she regresses. Progress isn't always linear.

This chapter is leading into the next one where there will be a little more action. I just wanted to have a little bit of backstory fleshed out because two things kept playing in my mind about being lonely and being a part of a family. This focuses a bit more on Killian than Emma, since his story shows this concept better than hers does. However, it is something I see as an issue for both of them. Sorry for the delay…I have had a bad stomach virus so writing wasn't easy this week.

***AAA***

Killian Jones stood at the foot of the stairs with his hand poised on the railing. She was up there, waiting on him to come and deliver another file or perhaps even make her smile while she delved into dusty records with a queen from another realm and her mother. He'd heard the jokes that he was becoming less of a pirate and more of a delivery boy. Though he shrugged them off, he did realize there were some merits to the arguments. But if he had taken the time, he would have pointed out that she was never the one to ask him for any of these favors. Instead, he looked at them as opportunities. He anticipated her needs and tried to meet them the best he could. When he realized that she had not eaten since breakfast, he brought her lunch. When grimaced from the low light's effect on her eyes, he had taken the file from her and read it aloud so that she might rest for a moment. He'd been there as her sounding board, advocate, and friend.

But his hand was empty as he began to walk up the stairs toward her parents' apartment. He remembered back to the night of their first date, the stairs had seemed unending then too. He had bounded up them two at a time and then stood outside her door for a solid three minutes before knocking. He hadn't wanted to seem so eager to see her. At the end of the evening they had seemed much shorter, as he knew that she would be closing the door between them when they reached the landing. Once again the steps seemed short, but he quickly rapped on the door with his fist. He had just begun to lower it when the door flew open and Emma's son, Henry stared up at him with a funny half smile on his face.

"Killian!" he said, tossing a look over his shoulder. "You here for dinner?"

The pirate shifted slightly and held his eyebrows high for a moment too long. "I wasn't meaning to intrude on your…" he stammered. "I just wanted to see…"

"My mom," Henry finished for him. "You wanted to see my mom, right?" Grabbing Killian's arm, Henry pulled him inside the cramped loft space and motioned toward the kitchen area of the great room. Emma was standing in front of the stove, jokingly pushing away Mary Margaret's hand and squealing that something didn't need more salt.

Inwardly Killian groaned, looking at the family scene that he had walked in on by accident. David sat the kitchen table with the young baby in the crook of one arm and a newspaper in his other hand. He was calling out suggestions for what to watch on television as Elsa counted out silverware, plates, and glasses. Henry trailed after her telling her to add one more of each. That's when the others noticed him. With the exception of David, each of them smiled at him in welcome.

"I wasn't intending on inviting myself to dinner," he said as Mary Margaret came over to help him out of his coat.

"You know you're welcome to stay for dinner," she said with a short laugh. "Just consider this a smaller version of Granny's."

Emma's smile was warm as she wiped her hands on her jeans and walked toward him. "Did we have plans tonight?" she asked quietly. "I didn't realize you'd be here, but come on…I cooked. Don't look shocked. My mother is trying to teach me, so if it is horrible then she's partly to blame."

Mary Margaret grunted in protest, but kept a smile on her face as she began to search for some elusive item in the refrigerator.

She dragged him over to the kitchen and pulled the lid off the middle sized pot. Grabbing a spoon off of the counter, she dipped it and brought it up to her lips to blow on it softly. Smiling, she pushed it toward him and let him taste. He groaned at the gesture and then at the spicy taste of the sauce.

David groaned too, but for other reasons. "This isn't awkward," he said

****AAA****

Killian Jones knew from experience that a private room was something of a luxury in terms of his life as a pirate. His crew had bunked in a much larger dormitory style room, but he'd had his own quarters with a door that locked and kept out the thieves and others from stealing what he owned. So the concept of a private room in Granny's Inn was not one that he considered as anything less. However, he had to admit that sometimes he missed the sounds of his crew outside his door. He remembered lying in bed on the ship, his eyes closed and hearing the noises of his crew. Their raucous chiding, furtive efforts to exchange jobs, and gossiping ways soothing him and annoying him at the same time. He'd had no such experiences of his own, missing out on the comradery with the ship's crew as their captain now.

At Granny's there was nothing but silence. He had enjoyed it on occasion, but it left him room and time to think, a dangerous proposition when a man was alone. Most of the time his mind found its way to Emma Swan, no matter what the topic he chose to think about. If he thought of the weather, he would wonder what she would be wearing. If he considered the latest emergency facing the town, he wondered about ever more strategic ideas for combatting the issue. Food made him reminisce about their latest shared meal. Music made him think of her dancing in his arms. No matter the topic, he imagined her in some shape or form.

In the words of Ruby Lucas, he had it bad. The thought of Emma in her flannel pajamas should not be so arousing, but it was killing him. Just the short glimpse he had seen in New York had punished him. And just the day before he'd watched her with fascination as she delicately tested the pasta for dinner, wishing fervently that he was that single noodle she had so expertly inspected with her fingers and mouth.

While all of those thoughts haunted him, kept him up at night and blushing when he glimpsed her, he was grateful that his mind could not be read. That worried him about her magic, as he wondered if she would someday be able to read his thoughts. He hoped not.

Besides the mundane, he'd had his fantasies of her. While he wouldn't mind playing those out with her, he did not need the embarrassment of her seeing them in her own mind. His brain had played out thoughts of their coupling, imagining her beneath him as they made love. He could see, hear, and taste her in his mind's eye, waiting impatiently until actual memories replaced the fantasies. Those did nothing to soothe him though.

It was the loneliness though that was the hardest of all. He had been alone before, but this was different. Here in Storybrooke he was surrounded by people. But few if any bothered to really talk to him. He might get a wave or a nod from a dwarf or some other tertiary resident of the town. Regina and Rumple both scowled in his presence, Belle cowered, Archie seemed to analyze his every breath, and Robin had yet to actually bother a full conversation. The Lucas women smiled and laughed, but they were more interested in him paying his rent and giving a tip at the restaurant. Even those left of his former crew had moved on from his circle. The Nolans were truly his one connection to the world.

David balanced the line of fatherly concern and friend pretty well most days. He had helped Killian on a few occasions, including offering him driving lessons as a way to surprise Emma. Mary Margaret was always sneaking ways to help, including providing him left overs when he came to dinner, throwing him suggestions on everything from attire to music that Emma might appreciate, and mostly being a referee when David went into father-mode. Henry had waxed and waned, but the most part seemed to genuinely like Killian. Still the fragility of their approval was something that Killian was concerned would be all too fleeting.

Emma was his one link to Storybrooke that made any of it worthwhile. And while he had brushed off her awe of his sacrifice to return her to her family and friends, giving up the Jolly Roger was only the tip of the iceberg. He was acclimating himself to a new time period, confusion lessening about things that she took for granted. But he missed more than just his ship. He missed the simplicity of life on the sea. He missed the scent of a camp fire when they made landfall, the taste of the rum in other realms, and the darkness that enveloped the whole world at night. Here there were street lamps that never allowed that complete sheath from the light, electronic devices that sounded louder than the birds or other creatures of the forest, and luxuries that actually seemed to make life even harder.

He sighed and looked at the patterned design of the ceiling, etching out the design in his mind. The phone next to him beeped and he groped for it instantly. Her face stared back at him, which according to her meant that she was calling.

"Hello there," he said softly. "A problem?"

"Hello there, yourself," she said just as softly. "You have to stop that, you know. Not every time I call is related to a problem."

"Forgive me for assuming," he answered. "You must admit that most of our conversations over these devices are precipitated by some sort of emergency."

"I just wanted…" she laughed. "My parents are visiting friends with the baby and Henry is so focused on homework right now that I thought…"

"You seem to be having problems finishing a sentence," he said.

"And you never have that problem," she countered.

"No, I am rarely at a loss for words." He placed his feet flat on the bed, his legs up by his chest as he leaned forward. He didn't care if she called to read him the menu from Granny's. He could have sat and listened to her breathe or blabber insanely for hours. "You must be at a loss for what to do without your family demanding your attention."

"Are you asking if I'm bored?"

"You are calling me," he answered.

"I wanted to hear your voice," she said. He could imagine her blushing that way she did whenever she said anything that she regretted him hearing. He could have teased her about it, but he took a different approach.

"And I yours," he replied.

She sighed in relief. "I was just thinking about that coffee that I had suggested. I know Henry is here, but maybe you'd like to come over for a cup of coffee?"

"No parents, newborns, or human ice makers?"

There was a brief pause as she laughed. "No, none of those. The worst is a sullen pre-teen working on Algebra and hating life at the moment."

"I think I'd like a cup of coffee," he said.

****AAA****

Her hands were both wrapped around the steaming mug, as her lips brushed the rim. Pulling her face back, she laughed. "It's a bit strong," she said. "I had a different coffee maker in New York, Boston too. You didn't really have to brew the coffee. I just put the water in with the little pod and boom. You had coffee."

He looked confused, which was not that unusual for him in this realm. "It's fine," he answered back, deciding not to ask what a pod was or how that was better for brewing coffee."

"It's not," she said. "But maybe you like strong coffee."

"It's just the way I like it."

She smiled, wondering briefly if they were talking about coffee. "I'm a bit of a kid when it comes to coffee," she admitted, shifting on the couch to face him. "I put everything I can think of it in there. Cream, sugar, flavoring, and anything else."

"You like it sweet?"

"I guess I do," she said. "Not that there is anything bad about liking it strong."

Both sipped silently. It was a comfortable silence that was only broken as Henry yawned and stretched loudly at the table behind them. Emma rolled her eyes and looked toward her son. "Finished?"

"Finally," he said. "I've got 15 minutes before you're sending me to bed. Can I play a video game?"

Emma uncurled her legs and set her mug on the table. "I guess that will be okay," she said. "Nothing too violent, okay?" Standing, she motioned toward the opposite wall. "Killian and I are going to finish our coffee on the fire escape."

He followed her with his mug in hand as she lifted one of the windows and gracefully stepped onto the metal platform outside. She patted the spot beside her and leaned back against the railing.

While he had once referred to her as an open book, Emma Swan admitted that there were aspects of her life that were closed and secret. Though Killian Jones had come closest, nobody had ever penetrated the fortress of some of those secrets. She had referred to her childhood as difficult, lonely, and one that she would not wish on even her worst enemy, but she never told the real stories of her childhood. She tempered the abandonment and fear she still had issues resolving with funny stories about the time she and a housemate had stolen a bike or when she had skipped school to avoid a spelling test but accidentally fell asleep on the playground. The stories made him laugh, which she was beginning to enjoy the sound of just as much as the reverse was true.

When he had delicately inspected the items that she had kept from her childhood, she had been touched at the absolute reverence and curiosity that had passed over his features. Each item seemed to him like a treasure to be appraised and measured, not for monetary value but for the sentimentality that he had never known existed in his Swan. She had nervously clutched the white baby blanket that was the talisman of her brief hours as a newborn in the Enchanted Forest. Her name delicately emblazoned on it, he had dared not to touch it for fear that it would break her connection to her past.

But those were just things, objects that others would have discarded years ago. Postcards, notes from a classmate, photographs, a mood ring, glasses, a charm bracelet with a broken clasp, a medal she won for reading the most books in the second grade, her first driver's license, and other trinkets. The real secrets were inside her, buried under years of inadequacy, shame, and guilt. The glimpses of them were rare, hidden behind her toughness and stubborn dedication. She could have told him some of it, as she knew he would not laugh or joke about such things. But she did not, hoping to spare him the pain of having to see the invisible scars that made her who she was today. They had talked about the physical ones before from his fights to the one on her leg from a dare on the school playground. But they had left out the ones that might make the other see you as flawed.

"Didn't want to play a video game?" Killian asked with a smirk. He had been exposed to a few of Henry's favorites the night before. "Afraid the lad will beat you, again?"

"You'd be a fool to go up against him and expect to win." Looking through the open window at her son, who was now actively trying to defeat a villain on the screen, she sighed. "I played a few when I was his age."

"So these games aren't new?"

She shook her head. "No, they have been around for a while, but they seem to get bigger and better after all these years."

"I would think you would have been good at them," he said. "Most are good versus evil?"

"Some are," she said. "Someone's always better, though. That's maybe why I usually played with them alone. Alone you can be the best and there is nobody there to prove otherwise."

Having finished his coffee, he set the now empty mug on the step above them. "My brother always said that the humiliation of losing comes from being witnessed," Killian said slowly. There was hitch in his breath and he paused before he continued. "I would sneak off into the woods or behind some building to practice the latest game or activity that he had turned into a competition. That troubled him immensely since he got some sense of pleasure out of my failures."

"Sounds typical of brothers," she said. She didn't want to say anything, shocked that he was actually speaking of his past before his pirating days. "Always competitive."

"Aye," he answered. "My brother loved to be the best and to see me struggle to keep up."

"You miss him, don't you?"

"One would think after all these years I wouldn't." Killian closed his eyes briefly and seemed to measure out his words. "We grew up together and then served together in the king's navy. Then one day it was over. He wasn't there any longer, but I still was. I was alone. And all those times I wished he would go away, I wanted to take them back and spend more time with him. I would have given anything if I could have."

"He's family," she said instantly. "We are supposed to miss family."

"It's been a long time since I had that."

"A family?"

"Aye."

"It isn't something I'm used to either," she admitted. "But it's better than being alone, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter 4 - Confidence

**Two updates in two days. I wouldn't say to expect that from me.**

**Thanks for all the follows, faves and reviews. I appreciate them. I want to know what you're thinking. **

Emma sat in the living room of her parents' loft and stared at the cup on the coffee table. Her mouth sat in a straight line, lips thinning as she tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

"It's not doing anything," the blonde next to her said. "What is it supposed to do?"

Falling back against the cushions, she sighed. "I was trying to fill it."

Elsa nodded thoughtfully. "Might want to try something smaller," she suggested. "Creating something out of nothing is hard. So maybe you could try just moving it."

"I've done that before," Emma muttered.

"Well then it would be a good place to start…"

Emma held her hand up and pulled one of the pillows to her chest. "I'm trying to figure out how this all works. I can do the easy stuff. I can move things. I have even moved people by just thinking about it and moving my hands, but that's it. What kind of magic do I have if my biggest skill is moving things?"

Henry picked the cup up as he walked by them, his face questioning as he looked at the empty vessel. "You wanted something to drink?"

Emma groaned. "I wanted…"

"Your mother wanted to use her magic," Elsa explained. "It wasn't about getting a drink."

Henry placed the cup back down and stared at his mother. "You could always ask…"

"Regina? She isn't going to help me. She hates me. Gold? That's not an option."

Henry cleared his throat and Emma groaned again. She was a grown woman who was dabbling in magic, something she never thought would describe her. Regina had pointed out that she was not practicing and that her skills were probably wasting on the vine. It was true. She did not embrace that part of herself and actually tried to ignore it most of the time. Magic was not something she was used to having or even seeing. But try as she might, it was a part of her now.

"Keep practicing," Henry said, grabbing his book bag from next to the chair. "You'll get it."

Elsa smiled and placed her hand on Emma's shoulder. They sat that way for a good five minutes as Henry made his way out the door toward school. He refused to let either of his mothers walk him any longer, insisting that he was old enough to walk the four blocks. "Maybe you're trying too hard," she said. "Maybe you want it too much."

"I don't want it at all," Emma responded. "I never wanted it."

That was the truest statement of all. Magic was never something that she considered real until she came to believe in the stories that Henry had told her. She still kept some of that cynicism in her, disbelieving that she was actually chasing after villains that had just a few years ago seemed to be creations of Disney. Sure she had dreamed of being a princess as a child. She wondered who here parents were and what evil had caused them to leave her on the side of road. Her imagination had run wild, but it always came back to the same answer.

"You can't ignore that it exists," Elsa said, holding her own hands out to show how they looked to be covered in ice. Fisting them, she closed her eyes and made the illusion go away. "If you do, you're essentially bottling up this powerful energy and eventually it will just explode."

Emma knew that was true. An expert on bottling up feelings and emotions, she had seen first hand that eventually it did explode and with consequences she wasn't sure she wanted to repeat. "It's not natural," she said with a huff. "None of this is, but I guess I have to make it that way for me."

"You can't over analyze it," Elsa cautioned her. "You can't will yourself into it. It is natural for you so just let it happen."

Emma clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes again. Exhaling, she brought her hands out in front of her, leaned forward and tried to picture the glass full of water. Opening just one eye, she sighed in disappointment. "This is stupid," she muttered.

"Let's try it a different way," Elsa suggested. "Magic has a purpose, right? A reason to exist?"

"Yes."

"Imagine that someone you care about is thirsty. Henry, your parents, Hook?"

Emma tilted her head and almost laughed that Elsa was going to include Killian in this conversation. Despite the growing evidence that they were trying to be more than just friends, the conversation was rarely steered in that direction. But Elsa had a point. If there was a need for her magic, it usually worked better.

Closing her eyes again, Emma imagined him sitting across from her, just as she had done with the hot chocolate at Granny's, she tried to think of him wanting and needing the water. Just as before, her hands trembled in effort and a warmth shot through her as the glass filled almost to the rim. Before she even opened her eyes she knew it had worked, as Elsa was clapping her hands and congratulating her.

"Good job," Elsa said cheerily. "Now want to see if I can add some ice cubes?"

***AAA***

Her boots sank into the mud as they stood in a semi-circle and waited. Nobody spoke, each looking in a different direction for any sign of the Snow Queen. She had been close by, as all the signs pointed in this direction. A chilling breeze had strengthened and then waned. The scent of ice and snow that was permeating the area now had vanished.

David looked toward her with a sad expression, his eyes widening as he watched her place her gun back in its position. "Are you giving up?"

"What?" she asked. "No, I'm not. I'm just thinking."

He watched her lean forward and sigh. She lifted one foot and then the other, looking at the mud caked on the soles of her boots. She heard the others mutter and relax in their stance, all seeming to accept that they had missed her again. "I'm usually better at this," Emma said with a shrug.

"You're doing fine," he said. "She's going to be found, but not until she wants to be." He cleared his throat and looked to see who else was nearby. "She watched it like 50 times that day, you know?"

"Who did what?" she asked, startled.

"Your mother," he answered. "She and I watched the video of you. Not the part of the Snow Queen, but the other. You looked happy."

Emma hadn't thought about her mother's reaction to the tape again since the day in the station. "I…you can keep it, I guess," she stammered. "I've not watched it in years until the other night. And now…"

"I've wondered," he said, bending to pick up a stray twig from the ground. His fingers curled around it as though he might break it, but he released his grip. "I wondered what you looked like during your childhood. If you had a favorite color, song, subject in school…I didn't get to know you then. I didn't know who you were and I sure as hell didn't get to protect you."

"We've been through this," Emma said a bit shakily. "You and Mom did the best you could under the circumstances. You were protecting me by sending me away from the curse. What other choice was there?"

"It doesn't make it easier or right."

She looked toward the sky for a moment, getting her bearings and propped one hand on the tree to her left. "Alright," she said. "It sucked. You gave up a daughter and I didn't have a great childhood, but that's not something we can change now."

"I want to know those things," he said. "Your date the other night…did you date a lot in high school? Did you have a curfew?"

"It depends," she answered honestly. "I didn't date much. I didn't really like getting close to people. But on the few times that I did, I usually had to be home by 11 or midnight. It varied, depending on the home I was in at the time." She watched him digest that information, realizing that he was trying to picture it in his mind. "I liked English, Art, and Music best. I hated pink but I loved purple. I wanted a dog, not a little yappy one, but one that was huge and would scare people. I sang a solo in school once. It was probably the most terrifying experience I had during that time."

He nodded and opened his mouth. His phone chirped in interruption. "Thank you," he said softly.

She closed her eyes and waited for it. She waited for the rejection that was sure to come. She had opened herself up only to be shot down too many times so there was no reason to believe this would be different. He was already typing on his phone, probably telling her mother that he would be there momentarily.

"I missed a lot," he said, repeating it to himself quietly.

"So did I," she said. "I missed a lot with Henry. I don't fully know you or Mom. I barely know myself."

"The girl in the video?"

"She was a friend, but we didn't stay in touch," Emma explained, waving her hand to brush away a more detailed question. But the smile on his face was evident, imagining his daughter with a friend to giggle with and discuss everything. It was easier to imagine that than the think of her alone.

"Did you have lots of friends?"

She paused. "Some," she said. "I'm more comfortable with trusting myself than other people."

His smile dropped. "You get that from me," he said quickly. "Your mother is outgoing. Always was."

She could see that. "You weren't?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't outgoing and I wasn't confident. When I first realized how I felt about your mother I was scared. I hid it with quick retorts and flirting, but inside I was sure she was going to blow me off."

She laughed. "I don't think that was going to happen."

"You do that too," he said. "You hide behind sarcasm and jokes when you're worried that people are getting too close."

Again her eyes closed against his searching expression. "Top drawer," she said finally. "At the office. Top drawer on the left."

"Yes?"

She spread her hands out with the palms up. "There's a file there from the Snow Queen's tuck. I've gone through it and well there aren't any more clues there, really. Maybe you and Mom would like to see it?"

His breath was ragged and she could tell he wasn't sure how to say it.

"Just so you know, the math pages in there are pretty bad. I was horrible at it."

***AAA***

Her laugh echoed in the hallway of the apartment building as they left and for a moment she almost flinched, embarrassed that she was being carefree when there were Ice Queens and missing people. But her father often told her that despite the feelings, sheriffing was not a 24/7 job. She had to have fun, be around people, and enjoy her life. So she allowed it, that short interlude of childhood giddiness that she had avoided for years. His joke wasn't all that funny, but she laughed and his smile at hearing the sound was worth it.

"Are we going to Granny's?" she asked as they turned on the familiar street. She had not asked him for an itinerary, as Storybrooke wasn't large enough to have many options. He'd promised her a fun evening, but had been aggravatingly vague about the details. She'd asked him a good six times about what she should wear, but he didn't budge.

"You think that the one night I've gotten you to leave your files, family, and work behind for more than five minutes is going to be spent in the company of every bloke you see every day?" he asked. "You think I lack creativity?"

"Fine," she muttered. "Just asking." She wasn't sure why she didn't stop there in the street and pout. She certainly felt it was deserved. But true to his word they passed Granny's and he did not even slow down. Many of the businesses were darkened and others had only light glows of faint light spilling onto the sidewalks.

He chuckled. "You lack patience," he accused. "Yet you are the one who asked me for that vary trait."

"There is a difference," she spat back. The words might have sounded angry, but her eyes were still dancing with laughter. "And no I'm not patient. I always want to open my gifts before dinner. I want dessert first. And I hate waiting for holidays."

"Just a bit farther," he said.

She was about to comment that he didn't seem that patient either since their current pace was just short of a run and faster than a walk. Were they late? What could be so important that they had to be in such a hurry? She was enjoying his hand pulling hers and the way he would smile at her when she laughed or commented. But it was typical for her that the good was peppered with the bad. She felt him stop, his pace not just slowing but stuttering to a quick stop. In the same moment he pulled her toward him in a protective gesture.

"What…?" she got out before his coat and chest muffled her words more. "Killian!"

She jerked back, staring ahead at the sidewalk. The first thing she saw was a boot. That seemed innocent enough until she saw that it was tilted over and away from its mate that was still a few feet away. Then she saw the orange sock, the same one that her mother had commented about just a few days earlier. Leroy, Grumpy, had said he always wore something orange. It was his one act of defiance against his cynical nature, a sign of brightness and hope. Pulling her hand away from Killian's, she ran forward and stopped short.

Leroy's eyes were closed, a trickle of blood from his forehead had already soiled his shirt and jacket, pooling on the ground next to him. He looked lifeless as the ice on the sidewalk seemed to seep into his clothing. "Shit!" she called out, running toward the man who had been one of her mother's protectors. Kneeling, she yanked a glove off her hand and felt for a pulse.

"Swan?" Killian said softly. She knew he'd seen his fair share of violence, bodies, and gore. The concern in his voice seemed to be regarding her instead.

"He's alive," she said quickly. "Do you have your phone?"

Killian nodded, digging in his pocket to pull the device out.

She did not to turn to him as she reached her hand out to snatch it from him. Her fingers speedily dialed and she began barking orders with the skill of someone with decades of experience. Had she looked at him, she would have noticed the pride and concern that etched his face.

"How did it happen?"

She finally looked back at him, tossing the phone to him casually. "I don't really know. I hope he can tell us when he wakes up."

"You think he will?"

She shrugged. "I'm not a doctor, but I've seen men come back from worse." Still in her knelt position, she patted Leroy's leg empathetically. "I think he should be fine. He's a fighter."

With the toe of his boot he traced the edge of the ice trail. "You're thinking the Ice Queen?"

"Seems obvious, but I don't know," she answered. "This doesn't seem to be her M.O. She freezes people. She doesn't hit them over the head with a pipe or something."

"Could be that he stumbled across her and she needed to…"

"Maybe," Emma said thoughtfully. "But still seems odd that she would go about it this way. Magic would be easier and less messy."

"You'll figure it out."

She almost laughed when she looked back at him. "You sound confident about that," she said. "I wish I had half as much confidence…"

"You should," he said. "You're bloody amazing."

The nervous laugh that she emitted was her normal defense to his compliments. "I'm not," she protested. "I'm just someone who fell into this. I didn't set out to be a savior or anything. I ran for sheriff because I felt I had to do it." Leaning forward again, she ran her hand along Leroy's neck and checked again, finding the pulse a little easier this time. "I didn't plan any of this. I didn't plan on…"

"You were meant for it," he countered. "You always know what to do, what to say, how to handle it." He pointed to the ambulance that was now approaching. "You don't hesitate."

She wanted to scream at him that she did hesitate. No, it wasn't usually work related. It was usually when it came to him or even her family. She hesitated to be honest with them. She hesitated to share anything. She hesitated to love them. But most of all she hesitated to feel safe with their love. It all seemed so temporary. Who could be confident in the temporary? She didn't say any of that. She simply began to order the paramedics to take him to the hospital, falling back on the crutch of a job that had its own rules and script.

**Thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5 - Expectations

So I should be doing my homework for my graduate class in Administrative Law right now, but Killian's face in the preview and Emma's in the car were weighing heavy on my mind and I had to write. Granted this chapter has little Captain Swan. The biggest part is Daddy Charming. I couldn't bring myself to write Snow tonight.

I still don't own anything except the pretty sock monkey dressed in pink that my friend gave me today. I named her Emma since Walsh wouldn't wear pink. Maybe I'll have to get another and name it Killian.

Chapter 5

_"FREAK!"_

_"LOSER!"_

_Huddled against the side of the brick building, she covered her ears while the other children taunted her. It was no different, no matter where she went. She was always the new girl. Always without friends. She had learned to shelter herself from the rest of the children, to keep to herself so no one bothered her. But it wasn't working this time. They weren't going to just go away._

_She made a move to get up and walk away, but the rest of the kids crowded around her, their yells and screams becoming louder, almost violent. Looking around, she realized there was no escape. This time, she had to face her problems head on. "Please, leave me alone," she said in a scared, shaky voice._

_"Awww, the baby wants us to leave her alone," a somewhat tall twelve-year-old boy with dark curly brown hair and eyes squealed in delight, his voice not yet changed by puberty._

_"What did I ever do to you?" Emma asked quietly, more to herself than to the mob of children._

Emma sat rod straight in the cold plastic chair in the hospital waiting room, her face stoic and her hands clenched. She could feel Killian's arm next to her, but at that moment she wasn't thinking about the date that had been interrupted. She wasn't thinking about his eyes that were probably watching her, his hand that had slid over to hold hers only to have pull away, or the scent of him that made her stomach flip.

She counted the floor tiles – three times. She tried to figure out if she could read lips by watching the television newscast that had been muted. She couldn't. She inspected her boots, looked for change for the vending machine and then decided that was too much trouble, and tried to remember the combination for her high school locker.

Killian would have welcomed a conversation, a flirty talk with innuendo and sweetness that would have replayed in her mind at times she wished it wouldn't. She didn't want to let that happen right now. She'd apologize to him later. How many did she owe him anyway? The list was becoming long.

She was trying to internally recite the alphabet backwards when Dr. Whale walked out from the long corridor of exam rooms. His eyes were rimmed in red and she immediately thought that something had gone wrong. The air felt tight in her chest.

"Emma?" he said, vaguely pointing toward the corridor. "You can come this way."

She stood, threw her hand back to squeeze Killian's shoulder to remind him to stay put, and followed the white coat down the hallway. At the sixth door he stopped and watched her try to look past him in through the oblong window.

"He has a mile concussion and a slight contusion," the doctor read from the chart as though his memory could not be trusted after a few minutes.

"Is he awake?" Emma asked. "I need to question him."

Dr. Whale smiled sympathetically. "We gave him something for his headache so now's not the best time. I don't think there is much he can tell you. Ice formed from a broken pipe near the butcher shop and our inebriated friend slipped. He's going to have a hell of a headache in the morning and probably a hangover."

"It wasn't…" Emma started, looking over Dr. Whale's shoulder to see the former dwarf resting against the stark white sheets. "I thought maybe."

"Ordinary ice patch," the doctor said. "It happens this time of year."

Her face flushed. She had practically called out the National Guard and the FBI on this case. She had skipped out on her date, ignored two calls from her son and one from her mother. Turning on her heel, she muttered a thank you to the doctor and headed toward the door. She felt him behind her, but she didn't say a word. She couldn't. She'd failed again.

***AAA***

"I don't need a pep talk," she said, unscrewing the cap on a bottle of water. "It was a mistake that anyone could make. Better to be safe than sorry. You would have thought the same thing." She eyed her father carefully. "Isn't that what you were about to say?"

David leaned back in the swivel chair and lowered his chin a fraction of an inch. "Sums it up," he agreed. "I guess one of the benefits of having an adult daughter is that you can give yourself the pep talks and lectures."

"I was ready to call in the FBI and it turns out that it was simply a case of a dwarf being clumsy," she sighed. "He slipped."

"And you were there to make sure he got help," David added.

"Because I was thinking that it was a crime."

David motioned to the seat next to his desk and smiled at his troubled daughter. "You and I both know that this town isn't what you're used to any more than I am," he said. "I dealt with dragons, evil spells, curses, and invasion forces that threatened a kingdom. You deal in murder, robbery, and even traffic violations. To fight the evil of the Enchanted Forest I worked with sorcerers and knights. You use computers, the Internet, and science. I doubt either of us could ever succeed in the other's world. But Storybrooke is a hybrid of the two so together we make a good team for being sheriff. You understand part. I understand part."

She fidgeted, her hair falling forward as she leaned her palms on her knees. "Good point," she muttered. "We're a team here." Pressing her hands down, she attempted to stand.

"See," he said, a small note of pride in his voice. "I am getting better at these dad speeches."

She let out a tight laugh. "You are." The speeches, while embarrassing, were helpful in their own way. David seemed to know what to say. He rarely put his expectations on her. Instead he tried to present his case and then look on as she made her own decision. But the look on his face said he wasn't done. And without being asked, she plopped back onto the faux leather of the chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So I could be bold and try another one," he said, darting his eyes to the side. "You and Hook."

"Oh God," she said. "I'm not having this conversation with my father who Prince Charming about a man who is Captain Hook. Do you know what you're doing to my childhood memories? You people have already screwed up my head to the point that I'll never be able to go to Disney World."

He looked at her quizzically and then chuckled at her exasperation. "I was just going to ask if you might like to invite him to dinner tomorrow. I'm cooking and I promise it will be good."

She briefly looked embarrassed at her reaction, but then she laughed too. "You weren't going there," she said. "You're a bad liar. Killian has dinner at the loft two or three times a week. And when he's not there, we're all at Granny's. So dinner isn't a plausible excuse." She could tell that he was bordering on some lecture about the responsibilities of dating a princess or the dangers of dating a pirate. He'd probably rehearsed it. She wondered if her mother had been there to hear it.

He smirked, holding one hand over his heart. "I was just issuing an invitation."

"And?"

Sheepishly he began to flip the edges of the papers on his desk with his thumb. "Snow and I…well…we are curious. Lots of people are…What do you call him?"

Confused, Emma took another sip of her water. "His name? You mean Killian?"

David exhaled quickly. "No, I mean is there is a label? Is he your friend? Boyfriend? What?"

"I'm not a fan of labels," she answered without much conviction. "I don't know that we have talked about what we are like that."

David nodded. "I was just wondering."

She relaxed a little at his obvious surrender to not knowing the facts of that part of her life. It wasn't as though she would have known what to say anyway. "Right now we're just being us," she explained, almost to herself as much as David. "I don't know that we're ready for anything that has a label."

David looked a bit disappointed as he reached for the pen he needed to complete the report he was working on at the moment.

She felt guilty, but she wasn't ready for a confession yet. Her upper teeth immediately bit her lip again and she watched him try to look busy. "Dad?" she said softly. "I'm happy, okay? He makes me happy."

David looked up from the yellow form, his eyes questioning. "Really?"

"Yes," she said. "If someone asks, tell them that. Tell them I'm happy."

***AAA***

Emma slipped her feet out of the boots she had worn all day and sighed gratefully as her feet sank into the plush rug next to her bed. It had been a long day and the only thing on her mind was a hot shower, her favorite pajamas and maybe seeing her favorite show on Netflix. Despite the fact that nothing horrible had actually happened that day, she was desperately in need of being alone. It wasn't a need to think. She had opportunities to do that. It was more about just being alone and not answering to anyone.

The day had been quiet. While there was no development in finding the Snow Queen or even what had happened to the missing people, she had done her fair share today. A fight had broken out at Granny's when someone was accused of cheating at darts. Another rash of break-ins had plagued the area just off the main street. But every place that Emma went it was the same thing. Can you fix this? Why did this happen? What should we do? How do we fix it? Where do we go now?

People expected her to have the answers. She was a fixer. She was a doer. She knew the solutions. She fought their fights. She was the savior and that was what saviors did, wasn't it? Sometimes she wondered. She wondered about that tonight when her job seemed like glorified hall monitor at the grade school.

She'd seen the disappointment in so many eyes today when she had responded with I don't knows. They expected it from her. They expected greatness. They needed it. When she was sent away from them 28 years ago, the people of the Enchanted Forest had put their hope in her. Now they wanted to be rewarded for that act of faith and fear. And sometimes she wondered if she was really capable.

With a very unladylike groan, she collapsed back on her bed and closed her eyes for a moment. Sleep would probably come if she laid there long enough. She wasn't one for insomnia. But was sleep what she wanted? Her problems would still be there in the morning. They always were.

Her father had told her on more than one occasion to let him handle the small stuff. Though it had been a long time since he'd actually worn the crown, he still dealt with the residents in that royal way. She tried to offer choices, options to figure out what was the best course of action. He just told people what to do. Amazingly they usually followed him, as even as the curse had broken they fell back into their roles of servant and master, common and royal.

Mary Margaret had invited her to join some of the ladies in town for dinner. She didn't want that, as they all were either married or engaged. Most of the conversation was about the latest parenting techniques or the best way to have that fairy tale wedding in a land that seemed very much against their traditions. They did not get her jokes. They found her quietness off putting when she refused to talk about relationships.

She forced herself back up and peeled off the jeans and sweater she'd been wearing to replace them with an oversized t-shirt that she loved more than life itself sometimes. Turning back the sheets, she crawled in her bed and pulled her laptop next to her. She had just found what she wanted when she heard her phone chirp.

Not taking her eyes off the screen, she reached an arm behind her to fish out the phone from her discarded pants. His face was on the screen and she couldn't help the smile that formed with that recognition. "Hello there," she said softly, turning away from the screen and rolling to her side.

_Reviews are welcome and encouraged. _


	6. Chapter 6 - Listening

The car was dark and had become increasingly cold as she sat and waited for him to return. She did not want him to have to face the scene of her parents' questions and her own need to know the truth when he finally managed to show up that night. He'd been at school all day and then was at Regina's for dinner, but he'd promised her that he would stop in for a little while to get some help with some homework. She was waiting.

Using only the light of the street lamp, she read on her watch that it was only 7 p.m. He wasn't late, far from it, but he'd sounded so upset earlier that she was worried. It was more than that though. Maybe she was projecting.

She cranked the car the moment he rounded the corner, his slight frame bulging from the warm coat and worn backpack. His eyes were focused on the sidewalk and there was a shuffle to his walk that spoke of deep thoughts and consequences. Rolling down the window, she called out his name twice before he got in beside her. For a moment she thought about the first time he'd sat there, his innocence and determination on that ride back from Boston to Storybrooke.

"Where are we going?" Henry asked, throwing his bag into the backseat and fumbling for the seatbelt. "I already ate."

She drummed her thumbs absently on the steering wheel as she navigated the almost vacant streets. It was nothing like Boston or New York where people would have still been bustling and the traffic would be a nightmare. "Just thought we should talk," she said.

"Oh God," he mumbled against the scarf around his neck. "Are you pregnant?"

She slammed her foot on the brake pedal, cringing as she and he both shot forward and back against their seats. "No!" she practically yelped. "Why would think…I haven't had…I'm not having this discussion with my son."

"Sorry," he said. "I just figured that it was bad news."

"And my being pregnant would be bad news?" she asked with her nose wrinkling in confusion. "I'm not, by the way, but I'm just wondering what you mean by that. Actually nevermind. That's off topic. We need to focus on the topic."

He let out a chuckle as his now flustered mother attempted to drive again. "Okay then what is it?"

"You skipped two classes yesterday," she said. "I got a call this afternoon from one of your teachers. You're behind in all of your classes and that A you had in English is about to become a D if you don't turn in a paper that was due last week."

"See," he said pointedly. "I told you this was bad news. Nobody ever says they want to talk if it is good news. They just tell you."

"Don't even change the subject," she said, proud that she was becoming more used to his techniques. "So where have you been?"

"With my mom," he said quietly. "I've been helping her."

Emma thought about that for a moment and side eyed him as she turned up another street. While they referred to it as aimless driving, she was trying to remain in control. She maneuvered the little yellow car through the streets.

"So you're saying Regina is aware that you've been skipping classes?" she finally asked, unsure that she fully believed that her son was telling the truth. Yes, Regina was distracted lately with a broken heart and searching for a cure for Marian. Still, the idea that the woman would willingly encourage or allow Henry to skip classes didn't seem in character for her. "And that still doesn't explain you not completing your homework or papers."

He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, his face reddening with an obvious agitation. "You wouldn't understand."

In a split second decision, Emma pulled the car into the parking lot near the park and threw her hands up. "That's why I'm asking, kid," she said firmly. "I get that school can be boring. I get it. I hated it myself. But you can't just skip classes and ignore things. You're lying to me, Henry. You're lying to me when you say you're doing well in school or that you have all A's and B's. That's a problem."

Henry's face turned away to look out the side window, a frown permanently etched on his features. "I'm not like them," he said in a voice so soft that she almost asked him to repeat himself.

"Not like who?" she asked.

"The kids at school," he said, still avoiding her eyes. "They have memories of life in the Enchanted Forest. They talk about it all the time – horses, fencing, parties, whose father fought in which war, foods that I've never tried, games that I've never heard of, and all of it. I've never been there. I've never lived that life."

"Henry," she said sympathetically. "I didn't grow up there either."

"But you've been there," he said. "You've been twice, actually."

"I don't exactly recommend it," Emma said, wrinkling her nose. "I kinda like this world better. Running water, better food, the clothes, electricity…"

She watched him turn the situation over in his mind, his eyes glassy from unshed tears in the dim light from a nearby street lamp. "I don't fit in," he said steadfastly. "I don't. I get that my grandparents are who they are. My mom is who she is. My other mom is the Savior. My grandfather is Rumpelstiltskin. But that's not who I am."

"I wasn't always in the book," she reminded him. "That's a recent development."

"It's more than that," Henry explained. "Everyone else has a role in this. They have a spot. They have two lives that they are living. I'm just Henry."

"I don't have two lives," she said to him. "Killian doesn't either. He wasn't cursed like everyone else."

"You both do in different ways," Henry protested. "You're my mom, Emma Swan. You're also the Savior. You get to lead a normal life until the next big emergency and then you go into Savior mode. Not me. Crap happens and I'm stuck fishing with the dwarves or helping my mom do inventory of spell ingredients."

Emma wanted to laugh, but she knew he'd be hurt if she did. "So your solution is what? You want me to call you the next time I have to chase a bad guy?"

He shook his head. "I know you won't do that."

"I want to protect you," she said. "I want to make this right. So tell me what you want me to do." She looked at him pleadingly, recognizing the hurt still on his face. He was right in a way, something she recognized in herself at times. Sure she was a part of the book now, though she wasn't sure what exactly that meant. She was also aware that her two sets of memories were not the same dichotomy that her parents and the others felt. She had not been ripped from a different time or culture. There were enough similarities in her memories that sometimes they ran together and formed one giant ball of memories that collided and overlapped at times. Henry's were the same way.

"Because you're the Savior, right?"

"Because I'm your mom," she corrected.

"So tell me what the deal is," she said. "What are they saying to you?"

"It's nothing," he said, waving off her attempt. "One of the guys at school was saying that it was a good thing I didn't have magic or I'd be just like my grandfather. Someone else said they should take bets on who I'd kill first since I was raised by the Evil Queen. Other kids won't talk to me because she did things to their families back then. I invited someone over to play video games and he said that he was afraid he'd turn into a frog if he went in the house."

"I see," Emma said, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. "I know that they both have a reputation for what they did in the Enchanted Forest. Heck, they have done some things here in Storybrooke that make me wonder."

His lip was quivering as he finally turned to look at her.

"You aren't responsible for any of that," she said more emphatically. "Half of it probably isn't true anyway. You know rumors. And if it is, that was then and this is now. We can't change it. And you're not responsible. So what we have to do is figure out a way to make the other kids understand that."

Henry looked down and then back at his mother's face. "Don't you ever feel that way? I mean doesn't it bother you? The curse, what my mom did to your parents?"

"Sometimes," she responded honestly. "When Killian and I went back in time, I saw Regina. She was pretty intimidating. I won't lie about that. But she was also very different than the woman you know as your mom. So maybe there was some good in her back then too. It was just struggling to get out."

"But she is the one who cast the curse that made you grow up without your parents," Henry said.

"Yes, she did," Emma agreed. "And that sucked. But let's look at it another way. What if that curse never happened? I would have grown up in the Enchanted Forest. I would not have met your father because he wasn't there then. He was already gone. You wouldn't have been born. Do you think that I would want to wish for a life where you don't exist?"

Henry smiled bigger than she had seen in a while.

"So let's work on our plan," she said, startled at her own display of emotion. "First we need to get you caught up with school. Maybe you should plan on an extra hour each night with my mom since she's your former teacher. She's pretty busy with the baby, but I bet we can convince her to help."

"I'll catch up," he said solemnly.

"And as for the other kids," she said tapping her hand on the steering wheel. "Maybe we should come up with some things for you to do with your friends that won't make them uncomfortable. You could invite them to Granny's for a snack instead of to Regina's. Or maybe we could talk to my parents about having a movie night at the loft?"

"Sounds good," he said, nodding. "I like your plans."

"Good," she said. "Now we usually have a name for our plans, don't we?"

"Operation Leopard," he said with little hesitation.

"Leopard?" she questioned.

"We're going to see if a Leopard can change its spots," Henry explained. "That has to be part of the plan."

***AAA***

Killian eyed the box in her hands suspiciously, stepping backward and grandly sweeping his hooked arm in front of him. "What is that?" he asked as she crossed the threshold and slid the pizza box onto the table in his room at Granny's.

She smiled at him, shrugging off her coat and biting back a laugh at the way he seemed to circle the table as though inspecting the item as a weapon. "It's a pizza," she said and then followed up when she saw that the confusion didn't leave his eyes. "Dinner?"

"You can fit a dinner in that flat of a box?" he asked. "For both of us?"

"You'll love it," she said. "I promise."

She quickly set to work pulling out plates, napkins, and even two bottles of beer that she had kept hidden in the back of her parents' refrigerator. When she opened the box, she couldn't resist lifting it toward him and letting the steam tickle his nostrils with the smell of the pepperoni, tomatoes, cheese, and peppers. "Smell good?"

He nodded quickly and rushed behind her to pull out her chair. "You said dinner, love, but I didn't realize you were delivering it to my room. Had I known I would have cleaned up a bit."

She smiled to thank him for his gesture and then pulled two slices of the pizza apart and on to each of their plates. "I was thinking," she said, passing one to him. "Whenever we try to go someplace to eat, we get interrupted. Some evil whatever is on the loose. A drunk dwarf. A crazed wizard or witch. So I thought maybe we should try and hold it all at bay by hiding out for the evening. If they don't see us having dinner, then they can't interrupt us."

"Ahhh," he said, mimicking the way she picked up the pizza and took a bite off the small end. His face lit up at the taste. "But what about your talking device? It usually brings messages from your father, son, or whoever needs advice or help of the Savior?"

She reached into her pocket and held up her cell phone with its blank screen. "I turned it off," she said. "It won't ring this evening. Whoever needs me can leave a message."

"Should I feel honored that you would turn it off to spend time with me?" he questioned, going in for another bite.

"Very much so," she joked. "I rarely turn it off and when I do it is usually for me to have some down time."

"Then I shall appreciate every second of your attention," he said in that formal but mocking tone he used when he wanted to make her smile.

It worked, as she laughed and pointed to his quickly disappearing slice of pizza. "I'm proud of myself," she said just as mockingly. "I finally found a food you'll eat without telling me how much better it was hundreds of years ago."

"That you have, Swan, that you have," he said. "I do believe this is the best food you've offered me in this realm. And the first time it didn't involve fish or those potato things…fries."

She pouted for a second and then smiled again. "I thought you'd like fish," she said with a wag of her finger. "You're a pirate. Isn't that mostly what you ate while you were at sea?"

"Aye," he said. "We had our fair share of fish and crustaceous beasts from the deep. But I can't say they were the same as yours that come from boxes and are cooked in that magical box with the numbers on it."

"Microwave," she supplied. "And the microwave fish sticks weren't really fish. They are just something Henry likes. He's not a big fan of fresh fish yet."

"Perhaps we should try to remedy that?"

Taking a long sip of the beer in front of her, she had to wonder for a moment how her life had turned into this comedy. She knew her status in town as both sheriff and princess, but it still struck her as funny that she was sharing a pizza with Captain Hook and talking about fish. Sometimes she wondered how this had all happened and how had she fallen into it so easily.

"I'm not a bad cook, but I'm still learning," she said modestly. "I am afraid that fish isn't something I've learned about yet."

"Then I shall teach you," he answered without vacillation. "I've been known to prepare some dishes that my own brother thought were good enough for the royal family."

"All this," she said, waving her hand up and down at him across the table, "and he cooks too. How did I ever resist you so long?"

"That is one of the great mysteries."

"But I'm curious," she said, pulling out two more slices for them. "I have a hard time picturing you cooking. But I have an even harder time picturing you taking orders from anyone."

A soft and unaffected chuckle escaped the man's mouth as he lowered his beer to the table. "My dear," he said, "I wasn't born a captain. In fact, that was a role my brother held before me. I followed his orders."

Sucking in her breath, she wasn't unaware that this was one of the few moments he spoke of his brother. It was a rare occurrence and one that she didn't plan to interrupt. "You followed in his footsteps?"

"My brother was an honorable man," he said with a slight nod to confirm his own thoughts. "A captain in the royal navy is quite different than a pirate. My brother loved adventure and wore his title well. He would have gladly sailed and led his men for the rest of his life. But his loyalty to the crown made him blind. That ultimately killed him."

"Would you have sailed for the rest of your life?" she asked softly, thinking of his sacrifice of his ship.

"Aye, that was the plan. But where my brother was the epitome of honor, loyalty, and commitment, I was not of the same cloth. I had many of those traits when I served him, but upon his death something else took over. I could not serve a corrupt king and so I took a different path."

"But there are ways you are like him even now," she said. "You are honorable and loyal."

He flinched at her compliment, unused to the sound of it being directed at him. "Don't mistake loyalty and determination," he cautioned.

"I think," she said, leaning forward on the table, "you are a very loyal person to those you care about. You don't give up, which is a sign of determination, but it is more than that. You also believe in people you care about. You see the best in them. And from what you've said about your brother, that is something you both share."

"And how do you know that, love?"

"You believe in me," she said.

"That I do," he said. "Always."

She closed the gap between them, brushing her lips along his. She smiled before pressing her mouth more firmly to his, saying thank you in the only way she could.

_**Please let me know what you think. **_


	7. Chapter 7 - Accidents

**Since the weather turned a little cold here where I am today, I thought I'd write a fun winter scene for you. This wasn't originally going to be a part of the story, but I couldn't help it. **

**Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows. That means a lot to me. Enjoy this chapter. As always, I own nothing of value except my husband and kids. **

**Chapter 6**

The snow had stopped about an hour before she got home that afternoon, leaving behind a thick blanket draping anything that would stand still long enough. Her little car was not made for such conditions, but she had carefully navigated it back toward the loft and parked it just two doors down. Her mother had called earlier and asked if she could pick up diapers from the store, as she hadn't wanted to take the baby out in the subfreezing temperatures or steadily blowing winds. Emma had obliged and now carried three different packages that she guessed were the right size for her younger brother.

Opening the door to the building, she stomped her feet in an attempt to get the snow off her wet boots. The warm air of the heat assailed her face and felt good after she had braved the cold for only a few minutes. She shed her scarf, gloves, and hat as she climbed the stairs and by the time she unlocked the door, her arms were full of diapers and winter accessories. "I'm here," she called out, kicking the door shut behind her.

"Good," her mother called from the alcove where the baby's crib was currently located. "Be right with you." With Elsa, Emma, Mary Margaret, David, Baby Neal, and even Henry part-time, the loft was bursting at the seams. But despite everyone's complaints about lack of privacy, too few bathrooms, and the noise, all of them were finding comfort in the closeness.

Emma had not had a roommate in years, but now she was chatting with Elsa until late at night. She and her mother usually shared a cup of hot chocolate over breakfast and David had had started checking Henry's homework every evening. There was a quiet comfort that came from that normalcy she had lacked for years.

The living room was cluttered with sweaters, snow boots, mismatched gloves, and Henry's brand new sled. She dumped her items on the pile, looking toward the kitchen with anticipation. There they stood, her family. Henry was trying to argue with David that he did not need the gloves that his grandfather waved in front of him. And Killian, who seemed to be more and more of a permanent fixture with her family, was twisting on the cap of a tall thermos.

"Lad, don't argue with him," Killian said. "You really want to stay in all day because you're too stubborn to wear gloves?"

Henry reached out and grabbed the gloves. He shoved his hands deep into them, smiled as if to say he was ready and turned abruptly. "Mom," he called out. "We're going sledding. Want to come?"

"All of you?" Emma asked, trying to put the image of Killian on a sled in her mind. That wasn't an easy image to imagine.

"Yes," David said with a laugh. "Henry said it is one of his favorite activities." He was tugging on his own skullcap, eyes shining as his grandson bounced about with last minute preparations.

"I don't believe the boy is lying," Killian said. He had on his own snow appropriate outfit, though still with the black theme. "He seems to be working himself into a frenzy."

Emma shook her head and smiled at Henry who was now pacing in front of the door with his sled in his hand. "Henry, there's at least eight inches out there. It's not going any place."

"Will you be joining us, love?" Killian asked, tucking the thermos under his arm. He offered that tilted head, lopsided grin that always made her blush and look away from him. She knew he enjoyed seeing the impact he had on her just from a silly smile. She was pretty famous for her incredulous looks at perpetrators and the way she could keep a calm expression in any circumstance, but he seemed to have the opposite effect on her. Even when she tried not to show it, she felt her lips curl into smiles and her breath hitch when he stood close enough. When someone had accused her of yearning looks, she had dismissed it, but that was not something she had much ability to deny now.

"We're all going?" she questioned, watching Mary Margaret put the baby in a snow suit that made the infant look like a giant marshmallow.

"Baby's first snow fall," her mother said, tucking him in one arm and grabbing a camera with the other. "Come on. It's going to be fun."

Emma watched them all with suspicion. This was her family, but when had they become so enthusiastic. There was usually at least one person in the group who was battling a horrible predicament. Curses, spells, villains from every realm, growing accustomed to modern life, or whatever thing was going on at the moment usually led to pensive moments from at least one of them. But now they were all acting like Henry and chomping at the bit to get outside. Grabbing her recently discarded items, she wrapped herself up and followed them out the door.

***AAA***

Emma's eyes danced as she threw back her head and laughed, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and back. It was the first time that either Killian or David had seen her that carefree. And though both knew that any moment she would be back to her guarded and careful self, they enjoyed the experience. She wiped the snow from her gloves on her pants and picked up the discarded rope from the sled. "Who's next?" she asked, eyeing the men. "Henry and I have both had three turns. You can't tell me you're too chicken to ride down the hill."

David shook his head and pointed toward the bench where Mary Margaret sat with the baby. "I'm going to have to get them back in and out of this cold," he excused as he slapped Killian on the shoulder. "It's all you, mate." Emphasizing the last word, Killian chuckled and looked toward the hill.

"Alright then," Emma said, holding out a gloved hand to him. "You're the next one."

He reached out his own hand to grasp her, but he still ran his eyes from the steep incline to the smallish wooden sled. "Tell me again why this is considered fun," he muttered, following her up the first rise. "I can think of many more enjoyable ways to spend an afternoon in the snow."

"Chicken," she hissed, pulling the sled behind them. "This hill is nothing. Once, when I was about 10, I went headfirst down a hill twice this size in a garbage can lid. That's where I got this." She pointed at a mark just below her hairline. "Not very impressive, but that hill was massive. This is nothing."

"And this nothing made you scream as no monster ever has," he remarked.

"It's fun," she said firmly. "But if you're really that scared…"

"I'm not scared," he said just as firmly. His steps were shorter now that they had almost reached the top of the hill. The snow was no longer packing down, but giving way under the heaviness of their boot steps.

"Then you'll do it alone?" she asked. "Because I was going to offer to ride the sled with you."

Arching an eyebrow, he looked back and forth between the sled and Emma. "I think I should like to take you up on that offer," he answered. "Not for my fear for my safety, but for yours of course. It would be a long and treacherous walk back down this hill."

"Such gentlemanly concern," she chuckled. "Fine, I'll ride with you. Do you want in the front or the back?"

Settling their preferences, she sat at the front of the sled between his legs and held the rope in her hands. Her heels dug into the snow to hold them back as she explained that they would need to lean into the curves on the ride down. She was actually proud of herself for keeping her train of thought, as his breath on her ear and neck as he situated himself was enough to make her already wind pinked cheeks redden.

"You ready?" she asked, waving at Henry who was attempting to make a snow angel without ruining it when he got up. "Just hold on, okay?"

His chin rested on her shoulder and his arms around her waist as she brought one foot and the other to rest on the metal part of the sled. With a whoosh, she relaxed her grip on the rope and let gravity propel them down the snow covered hill. The wind cut sharply into her and she struggled to keep her eyes open against the pressure. His laughter rang in her ears as they skidded and slid along the path that she and Henry had cut earlier.

She leaned to the right to maneuver them onto the path, feeling him move with her as the sled skidded over a slight ridge. The sled flew up for a second then dropped them back onto the path, taking their breath away with the suddenness of the movement. Still it descended and she found herself laughing with him as they dipped and turned with an out of control feeling.

She was just turning her head to suggest they do it again when the sled shuddered violently. With a gasp she felt herself lurch forward and over the edge of the sled. Her body twisted as she flew upward and then landed with a thud, her leg and ankle twisted beneath her. "Son of a bitch," she yelped, pulling herself into a sitting position.

Killian pitched himself toward her, yelling for her not to move. "Are you okay?" he asked repeatedly.

"I'm fine," she said between a gasp and a grunt in pain. She clenched her eyes shut and then pulled her leg out from its awkward position under her. "Damn it!"

His eyes left her face to see the awkward way her ankle still hung. Even through the boot he could tell it was not looking good. "We should get you some medical attention," he said, breathless but steady. Motioning for Henry to come over, he quickly took control of the situation. "Let's get your mother and the sled to her…" He stumbled for the words. "To her car."

Henry nodded, grabbing the sled and his backpack off the ground and running toward the car. Stopping in his tracks, he turned and watched as Killian lifted Emma into his arms and began in that direction. "Wait!" he called out. "Who's going to drive?"

"What?" Emma asked, wincing from the pain. "I'll drive."

Henry shook his head and looked genuinely concerned. "You hurt your right ankle," he said pointedly. "You need that to drive."

Emma looked at her ankle as though she hadn't realized which one she had hurt and then back up at Killian. "Want a driving lesson?" she asked with a forced laugh. "I'd call it a crash course, but I don't think we should use the word crash and driving in the same context."

"Maybe we should call your father," he suggested. "I think one injury is enough for the day."

"I can do it," Henry said. "I'm sure I'll be better than I was before."

Emma shook her head. "I'm not letting my underage son drive me to the hospital," she said. "Killian's right. Let's call for my dad to help."

****AAA****

Emma shifted uncomfortably on the thin mattress of the hospital gurney, trying not to let it show on her face that her ankle and foot were throbbing. There were too many people watching her and judging each and every move she made. When she had sneezed earlier, Mary Margaret had searched her purse for vitamin C tablets. A contorted face when Dr. Whale had checked on her an hour before had resulted in David demanding pain killers for his daughter. Killian had held her hand until it was numb and was currently with Henry in search of a granola bar or something to settle her churning stomach.

Mary Margaret shifted the baby in her arms and shook her head sympathetically at her daughter. "They said they'd be back momentarily."

Emma wasn't sure if she meant Henry and Killian or Dr. Whale, but decided it was best just to nod. "I feel like a clumsy idiot," she said. "I'm an adult and I get hurt sledding."

"It could have happened to anyone," she said, clucking sympathetically. "You could have fallen while walking or coming down the stairs."

"Maybe we should come up with a story for you," David suggested from his spot next to the curtain. "We could say you were rescuing a kitten."

"I think that single mother breaks her ankle while sledding with a centuries old pirate is probably as dramatic as it is going to get," Emma said with a chuckle. "I'm not going to live this down."

Mary Margaret and David were both still laughing as Killian and Henry returned, both carrying far too many snacks for her to eat. The proud looks on their faces were enough to send Emma back to laughing despite the pain. "What did you do?" she asked. "Break into the vending machines?"

"Grandpa had quarters in his truck," Henry said with a shrug. He dumped his stash on the bed next to her and turned to grab the ones that Killian held. "We weren't sure what you would want."

"I know you love chocolate," Killian said in explanation. "So we got two different kinds of chocolate bars. But then I thought that might not be healthy enough. So I went with the crackers. They have peanut butter and something called a cheese like spread. The lad then suggested that you might like some chips since they were salty. And then that led to us realizing that you probably would require something to drink after all that." He reached into his jacket to pull out a bottle of water as Henry did the same and came out with a can of soda and a can of juice.

"I think you have it covered," Emma said with another laugh. "I could probably live in my car for a week with all this."

"Speaking of which," David said. "I gave Mary Margret your keys and I'll drive the three of you home after this."

Emma nodded again, looking toward the door as Dr. Whale entered. "Good news," he said, not bothering to acknowledge the small crowd she had with her. "It's not broken. Just a bad sprain. We'll splint it and have you use crutches for a few days. After that you'll be fine. Just ice it so you don't have any complications from the swelling. I'm going to give you a little something for pain and a prescription for something you can take orally."

***AAA***

A burden, that is what she felt like as she sat up in the bed, pillows behind her and under her foot. Mary Margaret had cleaned Granny Lucas out of soup and grilled cheese. And Killian insisted on making ice packs for her that he changed out at the first sign of thawing. David had gone to the pharmacy to pick up her prescription, returning with eight magazines, candy, three different kinds of ace bandages and braces, an over the counter pain killer, and a new pacifier for the baby. Each time she took a breath one of them was at her side, fluffing pillows, offering cups of water, and soothing her with touches and kisses on the cheek (ok that was just Killian).

So when Killian entered her room with a sandwich and cup of soup, she smiled at him and laughed as he held out the spoon to her. He was seriously trying to feed her like she was an invalid.

"I'm fine," she said for what felt like the one hundredth time that day. "I'm just a little groggy."

"Once we have some food in you, then you can sleep," he told her as he pushed the spoon to her lips.

She kept her lips closed, eyeing him carefully but seeing no sign of him backing down. "Fine," she said, opening her mouth for him.

"Good girl," he told her, gently dipping back into the oversized mug for another spoonful. "At least you won't have another scar to add to your collection from sledding."

She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. "You seem to see me at my worst moments," she said. "You've seen me lose my temper more times than I can count. You've seen me fail to catch a bad guy. You've had to carry me because I was too cold to trust my legs. You've seen me fall – literally and figuratively – so many times that I should be black and blue."

"And you always manage to come back better and stronger," he said. "You heard the doctor. This is a minor sprain and within a few days you'll be kicking me for getting too close again."

"I'm not talking about the sprain," she said, taking a bite of the sandwich he offered her. Swallowing, she continued. "And I haven't kicked you in a few weeks. That should count for something."

"My shins thank you," Killian responded with a smirk, placing the spoon back on the tray with resignation that their conversation would preclude her meal. "And what are we talking about if not your impediment? I do believe you've managed to confuse me."

"You are always telling me that you believe in me or that you know I can do whatever it is that I'm facing," she said, tilting her head. "Believe me when I say that it is appreciated and that I do hear you."

"I…" he started, but she grabbed his hand and shook her head.

"No, just listen for now," she said. "I don't know that anyone has had as much faith in me as you have. Even when you're not there, I can hear your voice telling me that I will succeed. I've started kind of relying on it." Taking a deep breath, he hand found his and she moved her fingers between his. "So when I do fail – because that is something that happens – I feel like I'm going to disappoint you. I'm scared that you're going to find a reason to not believe in me."

"You got all this from falling off of a sled?" he asked when she was silent.

"No," she laughed lightly. "I think about it a lot. I think about you a lot. I think about the way you look happy and proud when I manage to use my magic in the right way. I think about how you smiled when I got that portal open so we could get back here from Rumple's vault. I'm just scared that at some point you're going to realize that I fall more than I win. And where will that leave me?"

He held her hand tighter in his grip and closed his eyes as though he was searching for the right words to say. "Emma," he said finally, realizing when she looked startled that he did not use her name often enough. "I hope and pray that you understand my feelings. You aren't perfect, Emma. I don't believe I met anyone in this or any realm who was perfect. But you are amazing to me. It's not for what you've done or what you've accomplished. I would find you just as incredible if you never slayed another dragon or defeated another criminal."

She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it when she noted a slight shake his head. "My turn, love," he said. "If I have led you to believe that my admiration of you is based on your accomplishments and talents as the Savior, I have misrepresented my feelings to you. The first thing I noticed about you is your determination and your resolve when it comes to your boy. Our first two times together in the Enchanted Forest and later in Neverland showed me that you are a strong woman, a dedicated mother, and a brilliant fighter. But what stood out to me is that you are a wonderfully complex combination of woman and child. You don't let everyone see it, but when you smile there is something so beautiful about how innocent and happy it is that one can't help but smile back at you. Should I continue?"

She leaned forward, pulling him with her hand to meet her part way. "I didn't start this conversation for you to compliment me," she said. "I only wanted you to understand how I feel."

He placed his lips against her forehead and brushed them in small line. "I can't help but tell you sometimes, lest you think that I'm taking you for granted," he said softly. "Now are you going to finish your dinner?"

_**Thanks for reading – the crap is about to hit the fan with a battle coming up. Hope you're enjoying what you're reading. **_


	8. Chapter 8 - Surprise

_**Getting on with the story…Hope you enjoyed the fluffiness of the other chapter, but we need to make some progress so here we go. Thanks for your reviews, comments, follows and faves. I still own nothing, but I'd be willing to negotiate. I realize that this is taking the Snow Queen in a little bit of a different direction, but I'm hoping you like it. **_

Emma's breaths were coming in short spurts as she stood just on the other side of the clearing with David. Lowering her hands to her knees, she dropped her head and tried to not sound like she had just ran a marathon. It only lessened her anxiety a little bit to hear David gasp for breath as well. "Where the hell did she go?" she said through a clenched jaw. "She was right there and then…"

"She's playing us," David said, sliding the gun he held back in place. "She just wants us to chase her and then poof."

Emma turned her head to the side to look at him, throwing her blonde hair over the shoulder of her brown jacket. "I'm tired of this," she muttered. "She's toying with us and we are wasting time."

David nodded in agreement. "How's the ankle?" he asked in his best concerned dad tone.

"Fine," she said. "Just a little swelling is all."

David nodded again, knowing that she would not admit to any weakness or pain without good reason. But he'd seen her run without so much as a flinch so he was going to trust her answer at the moment. "Head back?" he asked as a suggestion. "She's probably long gone from here."

Emma held up one finger and pulled herself to a standing position. "I think that sounds like a good idea," she said evenly, pointing toward a clump of trees and underbrush a few feet away. "We might as well."

He realized what she was doing and slowly began to turn. The leaves crunched under his boots, but otherwise they were silent as they walked toward the vegetation. He lifted a branch for her and they stealthily moved in that direction. Emma sensed it first, a coldness in the air that had not been there before. It stung their nostrils with its fervor. She raised an eyebrow and pointed with her chin. He followed.

The Ice Queen stood with her back to them, hands raised and head tilted skyward. She seemed to be almost waiting for them, poised for their approach. "Emma," she breathed out in her sad tone. The woman turned on her heels and faced them. "You don't give up."

Emma took only two steps and stared back the woman questioningly. She searched her face for any recognition, but none came. She saw nothing that could remind her of the missing time in her past. "What is your game?" she finally asked.

"I don't play games," the woman said. "I just want to talk to you."

David touched Emma's shoulder as he closed the distance between them, gesturing to let him take her on. But Emma was stubborn and did not care to hand over the interrogation. "You erased my memories, you've done something with Anna, you've threatened people, trapped us all by disabling Elsa's ability to destroy the ice wall, you've practically murdered Marian, and what? You want to have a conversation."

"Yes."

"I'm going to regret this," Emma said. "About what?"

"Not here," the woman said softly. "Not in front of him." Her eyes finally left Emma and settled on David. "He can't understand."

David grunted and reached out his hand to Emma again. She shook it off. "No," Emma said. "You want to talk. Let's talk. I don't think you have anything worth listening to, but go ahead."

"You are so defensive," the woman said, holding her hands up in a mock surrender. "You've always been that way. So sure that every person you meet is the one that will break you. Some have hurt you, Emma. I know that."

"And some have wiped memories out of my mind," Emma interrupted. "So get on with it."

"I did that to protect you."

"I've heard that before," Emma spat.

"It's true, but you must understand that not everyone is going to hurt you. It's just that people don't really understand you. They don't understand me either." She clasped her hands in front of herself, looking a bit angelic in her white dress and prayerful position. "I am you. You are me."

"What's to understand?" David asked, taking another step toward her. "You're not exactly a complex woman. You freeze things and make things and people so cold so that we all turn on each other. Whether by ice or your words, your goal is pretty clear."

Emma gulped and relaxed back in her position slightly. "Enough," she said, not really directing the comment to either of them. "I'm not here to be analyzed. I'm here to arrest you."

If that surprised the Snow Queen, she did not show it. Her face remained stoic as Emma raised her hands and let the cold steel of the cuffs surround the woman's wrists. She thought for a moment that she heard David gasp, but she was concentrating too much on the woman's surrender. It was too easy, too tranquil. Suddenly a burst shot from the woman and Emma felt the cold pellets of ice brush past her with the sting of needles. She fell backwards, landing with a thud on the soft ground.

Her eyes opened slowly, consciousness coming at a sluggish rate compared to the darkness that had enveloped her. Rolling to her left, she searched for any sign of them, but found nothing in the woods that would give her a clue. David was gone. So was the Snow Queen.

***AAA***

Her shoes slapped on the floor of the loft's landing and the barreled through the door without thinking of her noise or waking her baby brother. Mary Margaret's face was one of shock as she saw her daughter's disheveled and panicked appearance. "Emma? What is it?"

"Is Dad here?" Emma said between breaths. "Tell me that you've heard from him."

Mary Margaret took a step forward with her hand grasping the back of a chair. "No, Emma, what's happened?" The woman's pale skin lost every hint of color and her body shook with suppressed fear.

Emma held her folded arms over her stomach and explained how she had woken up without any sign of her father. Her mother's face growing more agitated as she continued, she screamed out for their houseguest and clutched the other woman's wrist with her hand. "We have to find them," Emma said. "We have to go."

Elsa had only heard parts of the conversation, but quickly followed her friend down the stairs and called out to Mary Margaret that they would call to check in later. The passenger door of the yellow bug had barely shut when Emma jammed the car into gear and was accelerating down the main street. The water of melting slush sprayed up from the tires.

"We've got to find him," Emma said, keeping her eyes trained on the road in front of her. "If she does anything to him…"

Elsa nodded, her own thoughts swimming in her head. "Maybe Belle," she finally said. "I know that your Mr. Gold said he can't help us track her, but Belle. She seemed to know something more."

Emma nodded sharply and yanked the steering wheel with a violent jerk. The car tires clipped the curb as she drove toward the pawn shop. "He's going to help us," she said stubbornly. "I will make him."

Not bothering to point out that nobody could make the man do anything, Elsa clutched the door handle. "He's not usually willing, but…"

"But what?"

"Killian," Elsa said. "He knows something or said something to Rumpelstiltskin that forced him to help us when we wanted to find the Snow Queen. I don't know what it is, but something that Killian said made him use his magic to help us." The woman related her version of the tale, including following magical snowflakes through the forest.

Emma blanched. "Killian blackmailed him?"

"That seems too strong," Elsa responded. "I wish I knew more. I was in the store, but they were talking very low and all of a sudden he was helping. I just wanted to find her so I could find my sister."

Emma swallowed. "We need to know what it is that Killian said," she muttered. "If it makes Rumple cooperate?"

The two jumped out of the car and rushed into the store with the sound of the bell still ringing through the air. "Where's Rumple?" Emma called out to Belle. "I need to see him."

Henry looked up to see his mother's angry face and despite the fact that she rarely yelled and never threatened him, he looked truly frightened. "Mom?" he said, taking a step back toward a wall of books. "What are you doing here?"

Palms down, Emma slammed her hands on the display case and leaned toward Belle. "Where is he?"

Belle's eyes dropped and she gently set a porcelain vase on the cabinet. "I'll get him," she said. Hurriedly, she scooted behind a curtained off area after shooting Henry and apologetic look.

"Henry, go home," Emma sputtered. "You don't need to be here." She looked at her son, his eyes flashing with confusion and insult. Finally, he dropped the rag he was holding and shuffled to the door. Muttering a goodbye, she heard the bell ring again as he left.

Elsa placed a hand on her upper arm and squeezed. "It's going to be fine. I'm sure you can convince him to help."

A few minutes later Rumple appeared with his cool and calm look. Using both hands, he smoothed the lapels of his suit and smiled at here with his gold tooth shining. "Miss Swan," he said with sickeningly sweet mocking. "Always a pleasure."

Emma was about to slather on her own response when she saw Belle emerge from the same area, a darkly dressed man behind her. "Killian?" she questioned, her stone expression melting. "What the hell?"

His eyes met her briefly, but then he looked away. She shook her head in disbelief, words failing to convey what she needed at the moment.

"Miss Swan," Rumple said again. "Would you kindly tell me what you're here about?"

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've got some homework to complete, but should have the next one up soon. **_


	9. Chapter 9 - Searching

_**I've been resting today after a hard week with work and school, but I had these scenes playing in my mind and could not resist writing them. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Let me know what you think, how you think the next part should play out, or if you think I'm completely insane. **_

Hands gripping the steering wheel, she stared into the darkness and wished for one moment that it could swallow her for just a little while. The bile that had climbed through her chest now burnt in her throat, swallowing making the pain worse. Elsa sat next to her, for once silent and unsure as she fingered the edges of her sleeves and sighed out tiny breaths.

"We need to find him," Emma said, giving up on the silence. "We've been through every inch of the woods and there is no sign. Where is she hiding him?"

"I don't know," Elsa said. "I just don't know."

A well-manicured hand knocked on the passenger window, shattering the moment with its gentle pound. Emma opened her door and stood, one foot still inside the car. "Belle?"

"I said I wanted to help. It's not simple though." The brunette was holding a book in one gloved hand. Her red coat shone bright against her features.

"It never is," Emma answered. "What do you know? Can you take us to her?"

Belle pointed in the direction opposite of where they stood, her hand shaking at the idea she was doing this. "I went to her lair once," she said with a shudder. "I don't know that I can find it again, but I want to try. He took me there."

"So he does know," Emma resigned. "It figures."

"Emma," Belle began, her eyes darkening. "There is so much going on right now. I can't even imagine what you're thinking or feeling. Or maybe I can. Maybe I want answers too." The brunette adjusted her bag over her shoulder and pointed again. "But maybe those answers have to wait until we find your father and the Snow Queen."

Emma stepped fully out of the car and walked toward the beginning of the path. "Any chance you could get him to give us a map or something?" She tried to smile, but it was pretty flat in its effect. Elsa climbed out and walked after them, staring at each branch that blew in the cold wind.

"I doubt it would do much good," Elsa chimed in as she walked. "That woman seems to know our every move. She predicts them. She counters them. She's going to know we're coming."

"Then we'll have to be ready," Emma said, shining her flashlight toward the darkened path before them. "We can't leave him out there with them."

All three women walked in silence, the forest seemingly understanding their lack of communication. Emma broke the stillness first, asking Belle if she recognized anything and then again to tell Elsa she didn't care to talk about their examination at the pawnshop.

"_I don't understand," Emma said, looking over at Belle for any explanation and then at Killian. Her heart sank as she recognized a coldness that had settled over him. It was too familiar, more than a shadow of a memory of the man he had been. Rumple looked at her expectantly, but she could sense the pride in him. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to turn off the emotions that boiled at the surface. _

"_I believe you know everyone here," he said with a smile. "Or should I provide introductions."_

_Taking in a breath, she held up a single hand and backed herself toward the door. "We need your help and you're going to do it," she said, trying to sound confident despite her shaking voice. "Take us to the Snow Queen's ice cave."_

"_And why would I do that?" he sneered. "You don't control me." His gaze drifted toward his wife, but there was no reaction. _

_Emma glanced at Belle, who stood motionless beside Killian, her eyes trained on the ground. Even Elsa was standing behind her, not willing to join this fight yet. "You owe me," she said firmly. "I'm allowing Henry to work here. You're getting access to him when you probably shouldn't have access to more than an amoeba."_

"_That would be Regina that approved of that," Rumple corrected. "You have been hesitant."_

"_Fine. I don't have time to argue about it. Just rest assured that we'll discuss it later. What's your price for helping us?" Emma asked, seeing out of the corner of her eye as Killian shook his head. "That woman has my father and I need to get him back."_

"_You overestimate my concern for the Charmings," the older man said. "You assume that I care at all. They really don very little for me."_

_Emma stalked up to him, one finger pointing strongly. "You care because if you don't do anything you're just proving your enemies right. And you hate to be predictable."_

"_I don't have any secret intelligence to share," he added. "So your trip here is in vain. Unless you're finally going to ask why our dear Captain Hook is here. I know you're wondering and it's probably eating you up right now. So ask. Go ahead."_

_Emma looked back at Killian, who was glaring daggers at Rumple. She wanted him to speak, say anything that would take the place of the thoughts in her head. She did not need these doubts, thoughts of him betraying her, thoughts of him turning back to a darkness that had ruled him for so long. Why was he there? He hated everything to do with Rumple. _

"_I'm more concerned about my father's whereabouts," Emma said, repositioning herself so that Killian wasn't in her eye line. "He's in trouble and you have the power to help me. But you're too concerned with playing a stupid game."_

_Rumple laughed, but it was hardly the impish laugh of a man in control. "If you can penetrate the Snow Queen's lair, I believe your father should be unharmed and inside," he told her. "That's as much as I can offer, but know that whatever I tell you is only valid for now. I can't tell you what her future actions might be on this."_

"_Emma, wait!" Belle called out as she saw the blonde women both throw open the door. Emma turned and faced her. "You will need more than that."_

_Shaking her head, she watched the three of them. "I don't need anything else from any of you," Emma said firmly. "We'll handle this on our own."_

Belle stood still, her eyes searching in the dark for something she had seen before on her journey. Flashlight in hand, she held it out straight and let the beam fall gracefully on each corner. "Before I left Hook asked me to tell you something," she said, looking sidelong at Emma. "He actually wanted to come with me."

"I'm glad you stopped him," Emma said bitterly. "And I'd prefer that we not discuss whatever that was until we finish this. I can't…I won't deal with this now."

Belle walked toward a clump of trees and touched each with her hand. "I didn't even know he was there until I went to get Rumple," she said. "I walked to the back as you requested and they were arguing."

Emma wasn't sure that meant something good, but she let Belle continue, her footsteps falling in line as Belle chose a direction.

"I can only guess, but Hook's not the kind of guy to just come hang out with a mortal enemy," Belle said. "Hook must want something from Rumple."

Emma pursed her lips, willing herself to not have a break down in the woods. Her father was missing and now was not the time to have a crisis in her relationship. "I can't imagine," Emma said. "Besides. It doesn't matter. Rumple's not going to give him anything for free."

"No, he won't," Belle said. She grabbed Emma's arm as she braced her feet to go down the slight hill toward where she remembered seeing the cave. "And if he's negotiating or dealing with Rumple, he could be in real trouble."

"Of his own making," Emma said. "If you don't want to make a deal with Rumple, then don't. It's that simple. He can't make you." She cringed as she said it. Her words not displaying just how she felt.

Belle looked uncomfortable, but she smiled anyway. "I don't know what to tell you," she said. "Let's just find the cave."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret flung open the door on only the second tap from Killian's hook, her face falling as she saw him standing on the other side. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and sighed. "Sorry," she said. "I was expecting Emma and David. But that's stupid. They wouldn't knock. They'd just come in."

The loft was quiet as the baby slept and Henry had been sent to Regina's for the evening. The dark haired woman walked backwards to the kitchen table, her knees bending as she felt the chair behind her. "Come in, Killian," she said. "Emma isn't here though." In front of her was a cup of water, her notepad and a few crumpled tissues. He could see the list of possible places her husband could be written out in her perfect penmanship.

"She hasn't returned with the prince yet?" he asked dumbly. "I wasn't sure…"

Mary Margaret shook her head and watched the pirate eye her suspiciously. His expression was hardened by his experience and a fear she wasn't sure she could place on him before. "Emma's good though, almost like David," she whispered the last part. "I know she'll find him. She won't stop."

"Aye," Killian said with a curt nod. "She will find him and bring him home to you."

Mary Margaret's smile turned motherly and in a flash she was in the kitchen and pulling out a plate of cookies she had baked just a day before. She stuck the plate out to him, smiling at his confusion over her gesture. "I don't keep rum in the house," she said. "So maybe you have a sweet tooth instead."

Reaching for one, he nodded. "I'm sure they are wonderful," he said before biting off a bit. "And they are that."

"You didn't go with Emma," Mary Margaret said, realizing for the first time that he was sitting there alone. "Why not?"

"She wouldn't have me," he said. "I…It's complicated."

"What did you do?" Mary Margaret asked. Her tone was not as accusatory as it could have been, using her teacher voice instead. The distress in his expression was evident, even in the low light of the loft. He looked on edge, as if anything else happened he might bolt from the room.

Placing the half eaten cookie on the napkin in front of him, he began to trace a pattern on the table with his finger. "She found me at Rumple's shop," he said with a rush. "I was in the back room and she didn't know I was there. Nobody but…"

She let the surprise of his words hit for just a second, but then shook it off as she stood and went back for a carton of milk and two glasses. When he looked to her questioningly, she shrugged. "I told you," she said. "I don't have any rum. And well, milk goes with cookies."

She passed him a glass and watched him gulp it down. "Not quite the same kick," he said. "But it will do."

"Why were you there?" she asked. There was an apologetic stance to him as he weighed his words.

"Long story," he answered, knowing that it would not satisfy her. "I guess it started with my pride. I wanted to a whole man for Emma. I didn't want this," he held up his hook before her, "reminder of what I became. I wanted…"

"You wanted your hand back," Mary Margaret finished for him. "You wanted it for your date with Emma." She said it so sweetly that he almost blushed. She had been the first to notice his hand, as Emma's reaction was more toward the flower than his appendage. But the princess was nothing if not observant.

He nodded, finishing off the last bit of milk in his glass. She poured him another.

"So you went to the only person who could give that to you," she concluded. "And I'm guessing there was a steep price for it."

"Aye," he responded. "I thought that I could beat him at his own game. I thought I could win."

Mary Margaret sat across from the man who had once injured her husband but saved his life too. He was the man who had left her locked in a cell with her daughter and two others. He was the man who had stolen the magic bean that was meant to save them and then come back with it. She was looking at the man her daughter loved. "I'm sure you know that Rumple would tell you that all magic has a price," she said. "And I'm sure you know now that the price is very steep."

He nodded, a bit confused that she wasn't yelling at him.

"So tell me about the price," she said.

Lifting the glass to his lips, he gave the white substance a chug and then bit down into his cookie again. If Emma ever talked to him again, she would probably laugh at the mental image of Captain Hook and Snow White sharing milk and cookies. "He wants me to do some work for him, things that he can't do alone."

Undeterred by his vagueness, she poured a bit more milk in his glass to top it off. "And these are things that you don't want to do," she surmised. "Things you think Emma wouldn't approve of you doing?"

The nod was almost imperceptible. "He has a cap…a hat…I don't know," Killian's hand flew to brush away the words, almost knocking over his glass. "It can suck people inside."

Mary Margaret's face showed unabashed alarm, her hands reached out and grabbed Killian's one hand. It shocked them both. "What is he planning to do with it?"

"I'm not certain that I fully understand," Killian answered, acutely aware that she was trying to calm him. He could hear the cars outside and the baby gurgling happily in his swing. Even the bells from a nearby church were sounding, but none of them were comforting to him. "There was an old man out near the edge of town. Rumple wanted to pay him a visit and had me go with him."

"He forced you?" she asked, concern etched on her face. "He's done some horrible things. I was hoping though that he had changed."

Killian looked away, seeing the loft's eclectic style that seemed perfect for the princess's Stoneybrooke persona. He could see Emma there, her face shining with pride as Henry told some funny story about school. Her laughter would sound out as her father attempted to exert some fatherly advice, reminding him that they were essentially the same age. Despite her protests that she was not capable of normalcy, he had seen her live that life. Now he was questioning if he would only continue to see it as a bystander. "He held no gun to my head," Killian said. "I'm reluctant to say that it was force. He is very persuasive though, and has little use for anyone who isn't an asset to him."

She looked puzzled for a moment. "He threatened you, didn't he?" she asked before correcting herself. "No, that would only have made you challenge him more. He threatened Emma."

"Aye," he said softly. "I realized that he has been lying about the dagger. He didn't give real one to his wife. I used that information to my advantage and it seems to have unleashed his ways."

"That makes sense," Mary Margaret whispered. "He's worked so hard to be the one in control. I can't see him giving that power and control away."

"No, he wouldn't," Killian agreed. "But I was a fool. I didn't use my information properly and it gave him opportunity. He claims to have switched the daggers back. So now I have no proof and he has a video that shows me in the home of that old man."

Neal fussed loudly, interrupting their discussion. Holding a hand up for him to wait, the young mother walked into the alcove to lift her son up. Nestling him in her arms, she walked back to the table to sit down. "So he's threatening to show that to Emma," she said.

"He has threatened that, but even more," Killian said, letting the words tumble out easily. "I don't fully understand the hat at all, but I know that it is use lies in absorbing the power of those who have magic. The Dark One could be using it to gain that power for himself, but I'm not sure about that. What worries me is that…"

"Emma," she said. "He could use it against Emma."

Killian nodded again. "I can't let him hurt her. I would die before I let that happen."

***AAA***

The whiteness of the inside of the Snow Queen's lair was blinding and the three ladies each flinched as the crossed its threshold. Belle pointed with disdain to the mirror and warned each of them to keep their distance. "Don't," she said one final time, passing it to the opposite wall.

Emma and Elsa each looked around the room, finding nothing of significance in its icy depths. They both wore stoic expressions as the three regrouped toward the center of the room. "I'm not seeing anything here that can help us," Emma said, folding her arms across her body. "It's just a room with a mirror."

"There must be more," Elsa said, brushing her bare hand over the ice on the wall. "She can't have placed all this here just for show."

Belle shook her head and looked to each of the women. "The mirror is the key," she said. "It has to be. It will be the catalyst for the spell."

"Then perhaps," Elsa suggested, "One of us should look into it."

"No!" Belle said.

Emma slid her hands up and down her arms, warming herself despite not filling the chill of the weather just yet. "I will do it," she said. "It tells you what your inner thoughts are?"

"Rumple said it lies and plays on your fears," Belle corrected.

"I'm not sure I trust him at the moment," Emma answered. "Look of the three of us I know my inner thoughts and fears both. I've faced worse just sitting in a dark room alone. No mirror could tell me anything new or unusual."

"You don't understand," Belle said, shuddering. "It's like it can see things that you never thought anyone could."

Emma looked unconvinced. "One of us needs to do it," she said doggedly. "I don't see why not me."

Elsa shifted her weight and peered over her shoulder at the ornate mirror. Her eyes seemed transfixed. "I could do it."

"No," said Emma. "It should be me. You are struggling with years of memory loss and being trapped in an urn. I'm not. She took a few months from me. And it's my father that she's holding captive."

Elsa gave her a side hug, leaning her head briefly against Emma's. "I'll be here with you," she said. "If it's too much, you just call out to me and I'll pull you away." She took a step toward Belle and smiled. "Belle and I are right here."

Emma nodded solemnly and pulled off her gloves. Walking quickly, she made her way to the mirror and stared back at the reflection of herself. Exhaling, she watched the image do the same. Emma smiled, but the reflection did not.

_**This is where I'm going to leave it off for today. Hope you're still reading and enjoying. What did you think of Snow being the one that Killian came clean with first? Please let me know what you're thinking and if you know where I'm going with this. Hugs and kisses for a great 2-hour episode Sunday. **_


	10. Chapter 10 - True?

_**Thanks for your patience with this fic. I have struggled to find the time to write and then got slammed with an idea for a ficlet that I finished yesterday. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I still own no characters, no show, and nothing more than a few crazy ideas in my head. **_

The glass reflection looked no different than one of the mirrors in her bedroom, but it was, she supposed, a different sort of contraption. Her own pensive face stared back at her, blonde hair, green eyes, the slight upturn of her nose, darkness of her lashes framing her eyes. As nothing unusual happened while she stared, Emma exhaled in relief. That's when she saw the reflection react to her.

"You're the last one I expected," the reflection said with a toss of its golden hair. "You've never really been one to want to know more about yourself."

"I want to help my father," Emma said, feeling a bit silly to be talking to her own reflection. "The Snow Queen…"

"Yes, I know," the mirror responded. "The Snow Queen has him trapped and you are risking life and limb to save him. Isn't that just like the Savior?"

"Tell me where he is," Emma demanded, not taking her eyes from the image. "I need to find him."

"Why? Surely his own wife should be the one searching for him. Why does it always fall on you?"

Emma blanched. "I am here to find him."

"Yes, yes," the image said, leaning a bit forward almost conspiratorially. "That's your family motto. But what about you? They don't seem to want to find you very much. For 28 years they left you alone in a world that they themselves didn't fully understand."

"The curse," Emma said. "They couldn't because of the curse."

"Yes, that's convenient," was the response. "What about the time portal? They saw the dangers of it and you got what? A voicemail message? None of them came after you. They didn't even seem to realize you were missing from the party for your baby brother."

Squaring off her shoulders, Emma stood there and wondered for a moment if Elsa and Belle could hear the conversation. What did they see? "Killian followed me through that portal," she finally said. "And when the portal opened up after the curse broke, my mother followed me to help me get back home."

"Yes, a lovesick pirate and a guilt-ridden mother," the image crowed. "Such a lovely family for you. But think about it. Did your parents – your own flesh and blood – try to get to you after your year in New York? You found them. They didn't even try. It was the pirate who went rogue and came after you. And he would even admit that it was probably more about his lust for you than any sense of duty."

"The flying monkeys…"

"They didn't even know they were a threat at that point," the mirror said. "No, Emma, they were sitting there waiting on your brother to be born. The look of shock on your father's face when you came back to them wasn't about missing you. It was gratitude that you would be able to save them again. That's all you are to them – a safety net."

Emma wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to ignore the words that her own reflection was speaking to her. "I don't believe that," she said, less harshly than she had sounded before.

"Of course you do. That's why I said it. If you didn't believe it, even a little bit, then I wouldn't be able to say it. Should I continue?"

The thought of screaming no crossed her mind, as did running away or curling up in the fetal position. She hated this. She hated that she was so weak that these thoughts did more than cross her mind. She knew that she would never be totally comfortable, never fully trust that her family was her own. "Go ahead," she almost whispered, digging her toes into her boots as she tried to stand straighter.

"You're scared," the reflection observed succinctly. "You're the Savior and this brave soul, but you're scared to death of so many things."

"I'm not scared."

The reflection tapped its tongue against the roof of her mouth and let out short bursts of air. "You're scared of failing. What would the town think if the Savior fails? But more than that you're scared of not living up to expectations. You're the daughter of…"

"Snow White and Prince Charming," Emma finished for the reflection, denying herself the right to roll her eyes. "What about them?"

"They are the epitome of true love in this town," the mirror said. "There isn't a person out there that doesn't want what they have with each other. You included. But you're also scared of that. What if you don't find that kind of love? What if you're too broken to see it when it comes knocking on your door? What if you're too busy to notice it? What if you are too scared or jaded to recognize it?"

***AAA***

Mary Margaret passed the third bag over to Mrs. Lucas and smiled tentatively. "I appreciate this, Granny," she said. "It's not easy for me to…." As a mother of an infant she had an urge to give instructions about bottle temperature, diaper brands, and emergency numbers. But it didn't seem right somehow.

"It never is," the older woman said, adjusting the blankets on the sleeping infant. "I'd say don't worry, but I know you will. Just take that energy and put it toward finding your husband and daughter. They need you to be Snow White right now, not Mary Margaret."

The brunette nodded and took the coat that Ruby was holding folded over her arm. "We'll find them," she said. "I know we can." The younger woman was the face of determination, focused and ever ready. It was that determination that had made Mary Margaret call her, remembering it well from years in the Enchanted Forest. When Ruby was on a mission, there was no stopping her.

Ruby ushered Mary Margaret and Killian out of the door, her long hair flying behind her as a blast of cold air assaulted them. Her face contorted and her eyes narrowed, concentration evident as the young woman cocked her head to the side. "This way," the woman said. "I am sure they headed toward the East trail."

The trio practically ran along the sidewalk and past the houses that lined the streets before entering the more undeveloped area of town. They spoke only when necessary and even then it was just a few words to convey an important message. Ruby led them down the path, holding back a little so that Mary Margaret could keep up after months of not really doing much tracking.

Killian saw it first and his voice almost echoed through the seemingly empty forest. "Is that…"

Ruby surged ahead, dark hair flying and her coat more like a cape around her. "Just a few more feet," she called. Her feet did not seem to touch the ground as she ran.

Killian was only a few steps behind her as they both stopped short. Mary Margaret caught up to them and gasped for breath. "Why did you…"

"Ice wall," Killian said, his voice low. "There has to be a way in."

***AAA***

Emma's mind flashed through everyone she knew and loved, their faces morphing and changing into each other until they all seemed like one. She was stronger than this, she told herself. Stronger than a mirror. "They love me," she whispered. "They love me."

"Who does?" the reflection asked. "Your father who was encouraging your pirate to give up his efforts when you were trapped with Elsa? Your mother who doesn't trust you to control your magic? Your son who would rather spend time with the mother who has always been there for him even if she is an evil queen? Or perhaps you mean your pirate who is so clearly lying to you that your insides are twisted into knots right now."

"They love me," she said louder, hoping that volume would make up for her fear.

"Of course," the image responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you? How do you feel about them?"

Emma felt her stomach twist, knotted feelings and emotions inside mashed together. "I l…"

"If you can't say it, you can't mean it," the mirror chimed. "You don't even love yourself. You don't understand it. I see that in you. You've never understood what could make someone love you. So you don't trust it. You don't feel that it is real."

"My family loves me."

"Why?" the voice asked. "You have wondered that yourself. Why would these people love you if it wasn't for the fact that they are required to feel that way? You think Snow White would admit that she doesn't love her own daughter? That wouldn't be a very charming fact. You're a burden, an obligation."

Emma reached her hand up as if to block the mirror from her sight. She did not plan on it, but an orange glow shot forward and the mirror lost its image. There was no physical damage, yet the silence echoed louder than any of the words she had heard.

"Emma!" Elsa said, shaking her shoulder. "Emma, are you okay?"

Emma pulled her eyes from the mirror and watched her friend frantically shake her. "I'm fine," she managed to say. "What about you? Belle? What did you see or hear?"

"We're fine," Elsa said, pulling her friend into a hug. "It looked like you were in some sort of trance. Did you see anything? The mirror was blank for us."

Emma swallowed hard, her eyes closing again with the bright glare of all the white in the room. "I did see…" she mumbled. "Where is Belle?"

Elsa stared at her feet, exhaling slowly. "Well, right after you started going into that trance, there was a loud noise. She went to check on it and hasn't come back yet."

With a resigned sigh, Emma turned around on her heel and bolted toward what had been the only exit. She could see the thick wall now blocking her way. The frosted surface was thick with ice, but behind it were three distorted figures. "Where the hell is Belle?"

Elsa looked worriedly at the small bay where they now stood. Fists clenched, she turned her focus back to the new wall. "I don't know. She couldn't have…"

"Escaped?" Emma finished. "No, she couldn't. How?" She was tempted to stomp her feet and pout, as this was the second person in less than six hours that had disappeared while she was busy with other things. Where were they?

Elsa glided along the edge of the wall, her hand skimming the jagged edges as though she was trying to polish them. "There must be.." she started, gasping loudly. Her feet flew out from under her, the blue of her dress billowing up as she almost hovered in the air before dropping into the air below.

"Elsa!" Emma cried out, watching helplessly as her friend dropped from sight. "Elsa!" She was only able to call out to her friend twice before the ice swallowed her as well. The first thing she felt was cold, but it was replaced by a searing pain as her body uncurled itself from its awkward landing.

"Don't move," Belle's voice rang out in a loud authoritative form. "Don't. You could be hurt."

Emma shook off the advice and tried to find traction on the ice. "Where are we?"

"Don't move, Emma," Belle repeated. "I'll be over in a second." The shorter of the two women pulled Elsa up to standing and tried to brush some of the frost off her dress.

"I'm fine," Emma said. "Now tell me where we are."

Belle shrugged, pointing up toward the whole where she had fallen. "I guess the basement or cellar of the cave."

Emma shot her a confused look. "Caves have basements?" she asked, trying to recall her last geology class. The idea of a basement in a cave seemed absurd until she realized she had been having a conversation with a mirror, was chasing a snow queen and was dating Captain Hook. Okay, so maybe a basement was possible.

"Not exactly like a house or a building, but caves can have levels and there can be one over another," Belle explained. "Upper chambers and lower chambers."

Elsa reached a hand out to Emma to pull her up, smiling slightly. "Does it matter?" she asked. "We fell down here and I'm thinking we can't go back the way we got here."

Grimacing as her body protested movement, Emma slid a bit on the ice and followed the other two women down the only path they could see. "Good point," she admitted, digging her hands into her pockets and hoping that it did not get any colder.

_**Thanks for reading. I'm not sure if there will be an update this weekend, as I'm taking a graduate level screenwriting class that has a big deadline of Monday. I have to concentrate on that, a sick daughter, and a car that seems to be breaking down. Such fun. **_


	11. Chapter 11 - Rescue

_**Here's a new installment. By the way it is hard to write scenes where your characters are in an ice cave. There isn't much to describe (it is cold and white). But we'll be out of the cave soon. As always, I don't own the show, ABC or anything that I could sell for money. If I did, I'd be able to afford the car repairs I need right now. **_

It had been hours since they had started walking through the long icy tunnel. She was sure of it, but Elsa and Belle both said it had only been a few minutes. The three women trudged forward, each looking slightly colder and more scared than the one before her. Emma was not used to such a position, as she had always been the leader of any group. But for now Elsa led the way, pointing out dangerous spots on the ice and shushing them when she thought she heard something.

"What is it that you think we're going to find down here?" Belle asked when they stopped to strategize a few minutes later. "I'm not sure that we should keep going until we have a plan."

Elsa's eyes flashed for a moment at being challenged, but Emma noted that she curled her hands back into fists and became the regal beauty once again. "I'm not sure, but we need to find a way out. This was our only option."

Emma shakily pulled up the collar of her coat and grimaced again at the pain in her muscles. She would have given anything for a hot shower, followed by curling up in her favorite fluffy robe with a bowl of soup and a good movie. "I haven't seen any exit signs," she said as a half-hearted joke. "That's probably a bad sign."

Belle smiled at her with mock amusement, but Elsa looked confused. The trio trudged a bit farther into the icy cavern. "I think it's getting colder," Belle said with a shiver of her own. "I feel…"

The two blonde women locked eyes, realizing at once that the cold breeze that Belle was noticing was a tell-tale sign of the Ice Queen's proximity. Both women readied themselves, Elsa holding her hands ready and Emma pulling the revolver out. If Belle was uncomfortable with their inclinations, she did not show it, placing herself between them both to shield her.

Emma let the cold breeze blow over her, closing her eyes and trying to remember what Henry and Killian always told her about trusting her gut. With a flinch, she realized that she didn't want to think about Killian, as it brought back the memories of him marching out of Gold's back room. His eyes unwilling to meet hers and his face filled with shame and guilt. It could distract her, she reminded herself. To think of him and consider each and every possibility would mean she wasn't thinking about the Snow Queen and David. No, she told herself. First David and then she would figure out what was happening with Killian.

Elsa cleared her throat and took a step away, but Emma grabbed her arm and spun her back to face each other. "Slowly," she cautioned, barely audible. "I don't know if she is going to expect us." The wide eyes blinked in agreement back at her.

They crept along the corridor, icy blasts continuing to assail them. As the reached a more open area, Emma leaned forward to peer into it, her hand stabilizing herself on the ice covered wall. The coldness made her jump, but she bit her lip before she could scream out. Candles stood in various locations around the room. Their frozen state prevented wax from pooling, but it also acted as prisms for the flickering light to cast brilliant colors in the otherwise white room. There in the center was an icy cage, and inside it sat David. His skin was pale and bits of frost tipped his hair. Eyes closed, Emma felt her breath catch as she wondered if he was dead, but a slight movement from him put her at more ease.

Emma crept farther, but it was Belle who stopped her, pointing at the ceiling where large and sharp spikes of ice hung. "It could be a trap," Belle told her quietly. "Be careful."

***AAA***

Killian pressed against the thick block harder than before, his grunt becoming more of a frustrated roar. He ignored Ruby and Mary Margaret's questions of what to do next and how best to proceed, knowing that strategy was not going to help him at that moment. He wanted to rely on brute strength, but they were insistent. Ruby muttered something about looking for another way inside, wandering off to investigate on her own.

"This can't be happening again," Killian said, his voice breaking with emotion. "Why?"

Hands trembling, Mary Margaret clasped her fingers over a rough spot in the ice. "I don't know," she said softly. "Maybe there is another way in? Or Regina! Maybe she could help. I know that her magic includes throwing balls of fire. It couldn't hurt." Readjusting her coat on her shoulders, she looked at Killian's face and saw the fear and pain growing. "Stay right here," she said, as if she had to worry he'd run away. "I'm going to get her."

Killian heard her leave and despite hearing David's voice from before that it was a waste of time, he sank his hook into the block of ice. He couldn't help it. It was the only thing he could think to do. He wanted to get to her, hold her in his arms, feel her palm as she slapped him for lying to her, any contact would be good. He just wanted her to be safe.

The ice cracked and splintered under his hook, but he made no headway. When he finally heard footsteps behind him, he assumed them to be that of Ruby or Mary Margaret. So he was surprised when Emma's son spoke to him.

"You left your phone on so I knew I could find you," Henry said, stepping to the pirate's left and watching as the hook hit the thick ice. "GPS and all."

Killian stared back at him blankly.

"Well…it is this technology my mom taught me about," Henry explained. "It helps you locate someone or something with coordinates and satellites that are like the stars. I guess it is a little like sailing in some ways."

Killian thought about his phone and shook off the confusion. "Your mother is in there," he said. "I don't know how to get her out."

Henry placed one gloved hand on the wall and the other on Killian's shoulder. "You're the one who is always saying how strong my mom is," he said in a remarkably mature manner. "She's going to be fine. I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't walk out of there, dragging my grandfather kicking and screaming." He laughed at the idea of it.

"You're a lot like her," Killian observed. "And your grandfather too. Must be some strong family traits."

Henry looked down, his eyes almost closing as he breathed in sharply. "You'll probably just tell me that I'm too young to understand, but I have to say this," he said a little less confidently. "I don't know what's going on with you and my other grandfather, but you know you have to be careful with him, don't you? He's…Well, I wouldn't trust him. I don't trust him. I'm only working there to…"

Killian took a step back, shocked that Emma's son was quite as aware as he was. "You knew I was there today?" he asked quietly.

Henry nodded. "I thought that was why my mom was there, but then I heard…" he trailed off. "Just be careful. My mom isn't happy about me being there. I can't imagine she'd want you there either."

Killian swallowed hard. He was truly at a loss for words, but he knew he owed the young boy an explanation of some kind. While he wasn't going to give Henry a confession, he had to reassure him. "I'd never intentionally hurt her," he said with as much sincerity that he could muster. "I'd rather die than hurt her in any way."

***AAA***

Emma could almost touch David's hand, not that it meant anything but that they were getting closer to him. Belle was beside her, easing herself up next to the frozen cage. There was no metal or substance underneath it, just solid ice that was cold to the touch. Emma's eyes were on her father's unconscious form. She did not try to speak too loudly, afraid that the Snow Queen was nearby, but she let out several furtive whispers to him and daringly called out in louder whispers as her desperation grew. Elsa was still at the wall, her hands poised to shatter any of the ice that might fall if it was in fact a trick.

Just one or two more steps, Emma told herself. She was ignoring the gnawing in her gut that even if they did free David, she had no idea how to escape. They could wander for hours and as the coldness grew so did the chances that she would freeze rather than live. But for now David was the priority. She removed her glove from her right hand and reached through the bars to touch the white frostiness of his face. At this range she could hear him breathing and the soft groans of sleep. He twitched at her touch and she wanted to cry out that at least he was that aware. Belle interrupted her.

"We've got to do something about the cage," she hissed, gripping one of the bars in an attempt to break it. "Do you think you can?"

Emma pulled her hand back in, uncovering the other one and planted her feet firmly apart. Closing her eyes, she summoned what emotion was still in her and imagined a warm sunny day, a fire, and a space heater all melting the ice that caged him. She could tell from Belle's silence that nothing was happening at first, but she did not stop. Her concentration only deepened and the warmth spread through her body and she hoped out of her fingers toward the bars.

"Yes," Belle said quietly.

Slowly, Emma opened her eyes and saw that there was an opening just big enough to get him out. Each woman grabbed one arm and dragged him to the edge of the cage, carefully lifting him between the two of them as they stumbled back to Elsa. "What now?" Belle asked the two other women. "Where do we go?"

Emma was about to answer, but she was not sure what she could offer. David was a bit heavy to lug and there was no telling which way would get them out of there. Elsa looked terrified as she glanced back toward the larger room, but Emma wasn't sure why on that either. She barely got the words out to ask her new friend when she heard the rumbling that seemed to get closer and louder. Her head turned just as the brightness of the candles and ice turned black. She saw nothing more.

_**Let me know if you're still with me on this. I'm about to have a break from school and hope to get to spend more time on this fic very soon. **_


	12. Chapter 12 - Recovery

_**This chapter is going to jump ahead a little, but don't worry. All will be explained. I own nothing so don't sue me. **_

The first sense that came to her was that of hearing. Her mother's voice was softly talking, saying something about the weather and how much she enjoyed the evenings in front of a fire. But before Emma could open her eyes, she felt the tugging of sleep pulling her back under its warm blanket. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she woke up again, this time her eyes blinked a few times before she was able to open them to cloudy visions where she saw more globs than actual people. But the strong smell of astringent and the constant beeping of machines told her exactly where she was – a hospital.

"Emma?" her mother asked, seeing her daughter's green eyes trying to focus. "Honey?"

Her mouth felt as though an old sock was residing there instead of her tongue, but she couldn't quite figure out how to clear the feeling to talk. So instead of a heartfelt greeting to Mary Margaret, Emma was only able to moan a bit and twist her face in discomfort. As she turned her face away from the bright light where her mother's voice seemed to emanate, she felt a warm hand cup her cheek with small areas of cold metal as a stark contrast.

Her eyes fluttered and struggled to open again, seeing his face there beside her. His worry was evident on his features, furrowed brow and lips thinned slightly. "Killian?" she managed to say with a hoarse voice.

"Aye, love," came back his own voice. "I'm right here."

Emma looked at him and tried to smile, but her expression was tempered by the discomfort she felt. Heavy blankets were piled on her. Her scalp itched and she felt the sharp pull of medical tape on her forehead. A thick haze had settled over her brain, fogging her thoughts into meaningless events.

"What happened?" she asked.

"There was an explosion," her mother said. "Regina and I came back to see if she could gain access to the cave and it was…But you're all safe. Belle and Elsa are doing well. Your father is safe." Mary Margaret grabbed her daughter's hand. "I'm going to sound like a mother here, but would you please stop going into ice caves. I don't know how much more we can take."

Emma let out a weak laugh. "Sure, I'll try," she said. "Hard to avoid when you're dealing with an ice queen though." She grimaced as she swallowed, feeling the sharp pain in her throat.

Her mind tried to sort through the events she'd been through. The mirror sprang to the front, but she pushed it back, not wanting to process that. Letting her gaze rest on Killian, she remembered his expression at Gold's shop. She wasn't ready to ask him why he was there, but the question was still looming in the air. She could tell he wasn't totally comfortable there from the way he was shifting from foot to foot and avoiding looking directly in her eyes.

"How's dad?" she asked, looking toward her mother. "Is he okay?"

Her mother's smile brightened as she squeezed her daughter's hand. "He's fine," she said. "He finally woke up a bit ago and they are running some more tests, but he's doing very well. He's been asking about you."

Killian nodded. "I'm surprised he hasn't snuck out of his room to come down here already," he chuckled. Turning serious, he ran his thumb over her cheekbone. "We've all been worried about you. You collapsed as soon as you got out of that cave."

Her head swam trying to remember the escape. She could remember the sound of the explosion and the weight of the three women falling together on top of David. But she could not consciously remember walking or crawling to safety. As far as she knew, they were far from any exit. "How did we get out?" she asked, confusion prevalent in her expression. "I don't remember how…"

"Whatever caused the explosion didn't collapse the cave," Mary Margaret said. "Regina seemed to think that it could have been a diversion by the Snow Queen. Some sort of magical…well I don't know…but the good news is that you four got to an opening. You are a little banged up, but you're alive and with us."

Emma tried to smile again, but the heaviness of the blankets, her fatigue and whatever the concoction is in her IV bag make everything seem harder and farther away. Then there was Killian. His eyes were filled with emotion, but she didn't know if it was all about her condition or if it was guilt. She wanted to ask him, but the confrontation seemed out of place.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Swan," the voice said from the doorway. Dr. Whale looked calm and comfortable with his white coat. He passed by Mary Margaret who was standing in front of him, picking up her chart from the end of the bed and nodding at each note. "You're feeling better?"

"Like a bus hit me," she said weakly. She hoped that came out as a joke, but she realizes that nobody laughed.

"You'll probably feel that way for a while," the doctor said, "but some good news for you. No broken bones. No internal injuries. The worst was you lost consciousness after you hit your head, but so far your vitals are stable. While you did suffer from the cold, I'm happy to say that it never got to full hypothermia. You had a few cuts and scrapes from where you were having to crawl and from where the Captain pulled you through the opening." Mary Margaret shoots a look at Killian. "From what your traveling companions are telling me, he was quite the hero today."

She knew he was blushing, his face tilted downward as he pretends to cough. She should have guessed, but there is something else in his expression.

"And how's my father?" she asked, pulling the blankets up to her shoulders and waving off her mother. She wanted to hear from the doctor herself.

"He's well on his way to recovery," Dr. Whale said. "No serious injuries. We'll just keep him a little longer for observation and you can all go home."

The fatigue, medication, and whatever injuries she had sustained left the blonde feeling groggy. Her eyes struggled to stay open and her limbs became heavier. As she nodded, she felt the warm call of sleep beckoning to her. "Okay," she almost slurred. "I'm sorry. I just need to sleep…"

"Of course," Killian said. "You have been through a great deal today."

Mary Margaret agreed, still clutching her daughter's hand. "Sleep now and we'll talk later," she told her daughter. "It can all wait."

***AAA***

Henry swung his legs back and forth, watching his adopted mother flip through a book across from him. She did not say much, only lifting her head to ask Elsa or Belle a question periodically. When he asked her one, she had shooed him away and said she'd talk about it later. Since the batteries died on his handheld, he was now kicking his legs and sighing in hopes of attention.

He looked up hopefully as his grandmother approached, but she merely hugged him and went to sit next to Regina. "I'll be right back, Henry," she said, leaning in to talk with her own step-mother. He sat there for a few more minutes, trying to act like he couldn't hear the conversation.

"What do you mean he's missing?" Mary Margaret asked, shaking her head in a bit of disbelief. "Does Belle even know?"

Regina shot a furtive glance around the waiting area, seeing Belle and Elsa sitting off in a far corner and Henry looking bored in his seat. "He and Ingrid are both missing. I don't know if that means they are together or if something happened to one or if it is just a coincidence. But for now it doesn't look like it is that good thing. I'd rather know where Rumple and Ingrid both are and what they are doing."

His grandmother's answer was muted and the two women bent their heads together conspiratorially.

Muttering about wanting something to drink, Henry wandered past everyone and down the short corridor to where the vending machines were located. He passed them and saw his mother's room. She was still, nothing moved. It scared him for a moment until he saw her chest rise and fall with her breathing. Killian was next to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked only at her, hand tangled with hers.

Sliding into the room, Henry said both their names softly and watched Killian jump from surprise. "Sorry," Henry said, stepping up beside the bed. He could remember seeing his mother's almost frozen form when Killian had carried her into the loft that night. He'd watched her colorless form shiver and cling to the pirate with desperation. This was different. His mother seemed less fragile now, but still it was a scary sight.

"She's going to be alright, lad," Killian said, squeezing her hand to reassure himself. "She's so strong…"

Henry nodded. He wasn't sure if he should try to hug her, but decided against disturbing her from her sleep. When Killian pointed with his chin toward a chair next to the bed, he took it and scooted closer to the bed. "My mom hates people taking care of her," he said quietly. "That's how we'll know she's okay. She'll complain that we're all making a fuss and that we should leave her alone."

Chuckling, Killian smiled. "You're right about that," he said. "She'll probably have a fine tantrum over all this attention."

Henry sat back in the chair. "I wonder how long she'll sleep," he mused.

"I doubt very long at all," Killian answered. "She's got too many tasks to complete and too many questions to answer. If her body will allow it, she's going to be back up and fighting in no time." Obviously not wanting the boy to see his worry and pain, Killian blinked back the emotion threatening to spill out. "She'll be asking you about your schooling and me about why I leave such long messages on her phone. She'll be complaining about your grandparents running out of cinnamon or the walls of the loft being too thin."

Henry folded his legs up in the chair, much like Emma was known to do. "She's wanting to find a new place to live," he mentioned. "Has she asked you about that?"

"She's mentioned wanting her own place," he said with a sad smile. "I should have asked…should ask her about that."

"Can't blame her," Henry said, sounding much older than his young age. "She's a grown woman living with her parents. She needs privacy sometimes. But there aren't a huge amount of rental options in Storybrooke. I suggested a few a while back, but I don't know that she's looked into them."

Killian raised his eyebrow and studied him. He was the perfect cross between Baelfire and Emma with his father's dark lochs and his mother's intensity. While he'd led a sheltered existence, there was nothing soft about the boy. But he was also starting to show signs of his family's propensity for blatant hints. "What are you…"

"Oh nothing," Henry said. "I just brought it up because sometimes she needs a push. Physically sometimes."

Emma moaned slightly, her eyes fluttering back open. "It would be easier to take a nap if everyone was quiet," she muttered. Turning her head, she looked for her mother, but saw Henry instead. Eyes lighting up, she smiled warmly. "Hey, kid. What are you still doing up? Is it night? Crap. I don't know that it made sense for me to ask you that."

Henry stood up and kissed his mother's cheek. "It's about 7 p.m.," he told her. "Not past my bedtime yet."

_**This was a bit of filler to move things along, but hope you enjoyed it. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you in the US. I'm thankful to everyone who reads and reviews. **_


	13. Chapter 13 - Confessions

_**Since it appears that I'll be playing taxi driver and cook tomorrow for a family meal, I thought I would go ahead and post an update while my cookies and cake are in the oven. Please note that I have not included the heart stealing, as I did not want that to be a part of this story at this point. Too bad I don't own the characters or the show. I wouldn't have to worry about this then. **_

The loft was warm and cozy when they arrived, Killian supporting Emma and Mary Margaret trying to support David without him objecting too much. Henry had scavenged the place for pillows and blankets, even borrowing a bell from Granny so that Emma could rest upstairs and ring it when she needed something else. He and Elsa had shopped, buying food, magazines, and a deck of playing cards to keep the patients' entertained so they wouldn't be in a hurry to return to work.

"Good to be home," David mumbled and sort of threw himself on the couch. "If I had to eat one more hospital meal, I was going to throw a tray at someone."

Mary Margaret snickered and kissed the top of his head. "You're a horrible patient," she told him. "Emma's just as bad. I see where she got it from."

Emma sat down next to her father gingerly, pulling one of the blankets on top of her and closing her eyes for a moment. She was physically fine, but the fatigue and soreness were still an issue. "I promise," she said. "I'll be a good patient if you promise not to bother me every five minutes."

The group laughed at her desire to make a deal. Henry reached his arm out to adjust the blankets again, happily showing her the magazines he had bought and the DVDs of her favorite movies he'd unearthed from the closet. "See," he told her, "It'll be like a mini-vacation. You get to order us around and veg while watching movies and eating junk food."

"No junk food," Mary Margaret proclaimed, already headed to the bedroom area to check on the baby and Belle. "I am not about to almost lose the two of you only to load you up with pop tarts and potato chips."

Emma's eyes rolled and she stared back at Killian who stood in the center of the room a bit perplexed by the whole scene. "Killian?" she asked softly, wanting to check on him.

"Perhaps some junk food is in order," he said with a faint smile. "After all, you seem to enjoy it and you've been through an ordeal."

Clattering a cupboard shut, Mary Margaret grunted at the suggestion and began to consider all the fruit that Elsa and Henry had bought. There was a ton and quite a variety of everything imaginable, except apples. Henry had refused to buy them.

"The pirate has the right idea," David said, winking at his daughter. "I could use some potato chips, maybe a hot dog, and a beer. That would certainly help."

"A dog?" Killian asked, looking disgusted. While Mary Margaret slammed her hand down on the counter at the suggestion of a beer.

Had Emma felt up to it she might have giggled at the ridiculous situation unfolding. "I'll explain later," she said to Killian. "It's not what you think." Then she promised her mother they could discuss menu options later and promised Henry that they would plan a movie marathon as soon as the pain medication had left her system.

She pulled herself up from the couch and shuffled toward the stairs. "I'm going to be upstairs," she said, giving a slight nod to Killian to join her. The good news about pain medication and injuries was that her father did not even protest that his daughter was taking a man to her bedroom. Maybe he would not have protested, but she was grateful at that moment that he didn't raise so much as an eyebrow at Killian's heavy footsteps behind her on the steps.

Killian shifted his weight as she dropped on the foot of her bed, pulling a quilt over her eyes and staring straight up at the ceiling. "You should get some sleep, love," he told her, taking two steps back and leaning against her dresser. "You look tired."

"I've been sleeping on and off for 24-hours," she said. "And is that your way of saying I look like shit?"

He beamed. "Never," he promised her. "I am only concerned for your well-being."

She rolled to her side, groaning a bit as muscles stretched and pulled. "I think we need to talk," she told him. "I don't even know where to begin or what to say, but I'm going to try this, okay?"

Nodding, he followed her hand gesture and sat next to her on the bed. His back was to her, his head down. She ran a hand down his back in a slow motion and then back up again. "You want to know why I was there." It wasn't a question as much as a statement.

She bit back a sarcastic remark. "Yes," she said. "You were in Gold's store and you didn't so much as explain or offer me a clue."

Clearing his throat, his hand went to the back of his neck. His fingers kneaded his own flesh as she waited for his response. "Do you remember when Elsa and I disobeyed your orders to go to the station?" he asked, peering at her over his shoulder. "When we found the Snow Queen?"

Emma nodded, realizing that while it was only a few days ago it seemed like a lifetime.

"I had realized that the Dark One was not being candid about the bloody dagger," Killian continued. "He has two of them, one of which is a fake. The one he gave Belle is the fake. She's no more in control of him than she was previously."

Emma nodded again, remembering her conversation with Belle. The brunette had said she suspected as much and that the mirror had confirmed it too. Despite his protests, Gold's behavior was not that of a man under his wife's control. "You decided to confront him?" she questioned.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes briefly. "I told him what I knew," he said, his voice soft. "I told him that I would tell Belle and everyone if he did not help us locate the Snow Queen. He agreed and that was that."

With the way his shoulders slumped and his furrowed brow, she knew that was not the end of the story. "What did he do?"

Killian's hand circled around the base of his hook, running his fingers on the metal. "On the day we were to have our date," he began, unable to hold back a smile at the memory for a moment. "I went back to him and demanded that he reattach my hand. It was a vain and rash move for me. I should have left well enough alone, but I didn't. I thought I would be a complete man if I had my hand back. I thought I would be better for you. I wanted to hold you with both of my hands and not worry that the hook was in the way or that you were at all repulsed by it. I didn't want you to see me as the pirate with one hand. I wanted…"

Her hand smoothed down the back of his jacket, willing him to turn to face her so she could read his expression. "You blackmailed him?" she asked then shook her head. "You know that you didn't have to do that. You know that I have never had a problem with the hook? If I ever made you feel that I did…"

"It's not you," he said sadly. "I pressed my luck with him, which was a gaffe of great proportion. He claims he has switched the daggers back and now has blackmailed me into helping him." With calculated words, he explains about the apprentice and the hat. His face clouds as her frown deepens. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I know that I have betrayed your trust and that of everyone in this town. I thought I was stronger. I thought I could manage to be better than this."

She breathed in, noting the pain as her lungs expanded. "Is that everything?" she asked, pulling herself into a sitting position, as she was not about to have a conversation with his back. "No other deep dark secrets? You're not hiding a secret marriage? Love child? You haven't robbed a bank? You're not secretly a woman?"

He finally lifted his head and gazed at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Isn't it enough that I've been lying to you?" he asked. "I somehow imagined that you would be more livid at my contraventions."

"I'm pissed," she said. "I never said I wasn't. I'm trying to understand."

"I am sorry about all of this," he said. "I never want to hurt you and now I have done just that. I want to be the one to wipe away your tears, not cause them."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, burying her face against his chest. "I am not happy that you kept this from me," she said. "But I'm also aware that you didn't set out to hurt me. You didn't blackmail Rumpelstiltskin with the intent of lying to me. In fact, you did it to make yourself better for me, which is another issue all together."

"Issue?" he asked, loosely draping his arms around her.

"I make you feel like you have to be something you're not," she said. "And I never even noticed it. Neither one of us is perfect. We're broken and completely messed up. On paper we're better off in therapy than in a relationship. But somehow I think we work. And if you think I'm asking you to be something else than you, then I've done something wrong." She turned her head so that her voice was not muffled. "So maybe I owe you an apology too."

"Darling, you are wrong," he said. "You bring me nothing but complete and utter happiness."

She shook her head slightly. "No, I don't," she said. "I'm aware of how you feel about me because unlike me you can actually express that. You give me compliments that make me melt. You tell me how I look and I become a 12 year old girl who stutters. While I appreciate it, I'm also in awe of it. I have never been able to do that. I can barely manage to tell people that I'm upset. I mask it all by being sarcastic or annoyed."

"And that is somehow equal to my fraudulence?"

"In a way it is," she said, tilting back to look at him. "You weren't honest about what you were doing to be the man you thought I would want. I haven't been honest with you either. I haven't told you that you are the man I want. I haven't told you that I care about you because I see the man who came back for me more times than anyone else. I neglected to tell you that I think about you so much that I have to force myself to pay attention to anything else. I have been scared to tell you that I want to spend time with you so I call you with all sorts of excuses to see you. But if I was honest I would just say how I feel and be confident that it was enough. We've both been dishonest with each other. So that leaves us with the decision of where we go from here."

He looked back at her disbelieving. Taking a ragged breath, he closed his eyes. "You mean that there is a chance I haven't lost you?"

She shook her head. "No, you haven't lost me," she said softly. "I want this to work."

"Me too," he said, leaning his face closer to hers. "I have only wanted that."

_**Thanks for reading. I hope you feel compelled to leave a comment/review. Thanks!**_


	14. Chapter 14 - Pressure

_**This update is a bit longer than past ones, but I hope you like it. Since David has been missing or hurt for the past few chapters, I haven't had many moments for him to be a dad. That's still one of my favorite interactions on the show so I thought I would play that up a little. I know they have tried to have this conversation in the story already, but it was time for him to press a little harder on Emma. **_

Henry Mills pushed the tub of butter across the table, taking a bit of his toast and eyeing the science textbook at his left. His mother, Emma, could not imagine a more thoughtful son. While she was feeling much better after her short hospital stint, he had cared for her as a parent does for a child. When Killian wasn't fluffing a pillow or her mother sneaking vitamins into her food and drink, Henry picked out movies for them to watch, charged her cell phone, sent her work related messages to Robin, and looked up each symptom on the Internet.

"How much do you think we'll have to do to convince them we're ready to go back to work?" her father asked, dipping his fork into the scrambled eggs. "I don't think I can take much more of this." He groaned quietly, which sent Mary Margaret out from the bedroom and searching for a pain pill.

"I doubt they will ever let us out of this loft again," Emma laughed. "We're being held prisoner."

Killian, who had been clearing away the left over ingredients from the meal, leaned over to kiss her cheek. "If that's what this is," he said rather smugly, "you need some lessons. You're a horrible prisoner. You fight every rule or guidance, but you've yet to orchestrate an escape."

"Maybe it is our guards that are the problem," she muttered, licking her spoon. "They seem to need a hobby."

David's head bobbed up and down in agreement. "You'd think that Snow would want to do something other than wait on either one of us. You'd think she might have some responsibilities as mayor." He sighed, pushed his plate back and folded his arms across his chest. "You'd think she'd want us to go back to work."

"Like I said," Emma repeated. "They need a hobby."

Mary Margaret balanced her infant son on one hip and carried a newly washed basket of laundry on the other. "I have plenty to do thank you," she said. "And the two of you are turning ungrateful. I've been doing everything around here while the two of you have watched television talk shows."

Emma shot a sheepish look to her father and then to Killian, who on more than one occasion had gotten sucked into reruns of Maury and Jerry Springer. Both Emma and her father would pretend to be reading a newspaper or even dozing in front of the television, but the medium was so new to Killian that he was usually sitting glassy eyed and enthralled by the paternity tests and fights.

"I will have you know…"

"Four hours yesterday," Mary Margaret interrupted her husband. "Four hours of yelling, name calling, cross dressers and God knows what else."

Killian snickered as the prince looked uncomfortable. But a quick look from David and the pirate was back on his best behavior. "We lost the remote," David said.

"Right, so you meant to watch something more educational and informative," Mary Margaret said, slapping the basket down on the table. "I believe that. Is that why you and Killian were making bets over the baby's father? Or why Emma was screaming out to the woman who was threatening to stay rather than leave her cheating husband?"

"Busted," Henry muttered as he dropped his plate in the sink and grabbed his backpack off the chair. Shooting each of them a look, the youngster shuffled out the door to school.

"It's just fun television," Emma said, jumping to David's defense. "What's the harm? Anyway, we're bored." She yawned for effect. "Seriously, as mayor you should look into getting better cable television. We get like 15 channels. In New York, Henry and I had hundreds."

Mary Margaret looks between father and daughter, exasperated that they are again complaining about boredom and lack of entertainment. "You two were almost killed," she reminded them. "I could have lost you both. And for you to act like I'm denying you something because I'm not tap dancing and singing every moment you're here is ridiculous. It's insulting. Henry has been trying his best. Killian has been trying his best. And damn it, I've been trying my best." Emma and David ducked their heads down. "So you want to go back to work? Fine! Go!"

"Honey," David said, standing up to follow his wife out of the room. His flannel shirt billowed slightly, as he had not bothered to tuck it in his jeans yet.

"That went well," Emma laughed nervously. "Do you feel unappreciated too?"

Killian smiled at her, removing the empty plate from in front of her and taking it to the sink. "Love, I have not been doing anything that extraordinary that you should feel you owe me," he said. "Now if you desire to show me some gratitude, I would not reject that idea."

"This is sounding familiar," Emma said, following him with some of the other dishes. "And I will just say that if I wanted to show you some sort of physical gratitude, I would do so without announcing it or making it a big production. Don't you think it means more when it is spontaneous?"

Turning on the water, he raised a single eyebrow at her and chuckled. "Are you accusing me of provoking a response out of you? I seem to recall that your first display of such gratitude was in Neverland and you did not need me to bait you." His smirk seemed to penetrate what was left of the oxygen in the room.

"You are kidding me," she said, groaning. "You were practically begging me to kiss you. Do you even recall tapping on your lips like we were freaking playing charades? You cannot place all the responsibility for that kiss on me." She dropped the dishes down into the soapy water he was using, leaned her hip on the counter and folded her arms.

"It was merely a nervous tick," he answered as though he were a Boy Scout. "I have always allowed you to set the speed in our relationship, including our liaisons."

She rolled her eyes, not giving him a smile or any other form of encouragement. "You are full of crap," she muttered, walking toward the stairs. "I'm not going to let you tell people I threw myself at you." He watched her saunter up the first few steps, a worried expression on his face. That was until she giggled. "Besides," she said, "while I may have initiated our first few kisses, I wasn't acting alone. I remember some very active lips on the other side of that exchange."

Shooting a look toward David and Mary Margaret's sleeping quarters, he dropped the final plate into the water and decided that it was time to let them soak. He wiped his lone hand on the nearby dish towel and followed her just in case she wanted to initiate anything.

***AAA***

Robin Hood was a wonderful archer, a great tracker, and a magnificent strategist, all of which Emma found very useful. It had only taken about 10 minutes of begging and guilt trips for her to convince Mary Margaret that his services could be used at the station on a more permanent basis and she should adjust the city's budget accordingly. The one area where he could use some help was with paperwork. The days he'd run the department alone might have been quiet, but he'd managed to complete no reports and left a string of half written forms on her desk.

Rolling her head from side to side, she yawned and stretched. David chuckled at her, reminding her that they had practically started World War III in order to be back at work. "Don't tell mom," she said to him, reaching for her second cup of coffee. "But I could seriously use a nap."

Holding his right hand to the sky, he looked very solemn. "I swear," he said mockingly. "Your mother will not learn it from me." David sat back from his own paperwork and folded his hands on his chest. "But I do have a question for you."

She reached for a bottle of White Out in her top drawer and absently dipped it onto the page where Robin had written the wrong code section. "What would that be?" she asked, distracted.

"Where is Hook today?" he asked, raising his hands to gesture to the emptiness of the station. "He's usually texted you a few times and stopped by at least twice by now."

She felt her cheeks grow a little warm. "I think he's at the harbor right now," she said, keeping her eyes on the form in front of her. "I might have asked him to check out how the ice wall has affected the waterways."

"You wanted him away today?" David asked.

"Not exactly," she said. "I just felt that was something we should look at and he's good at that sort of thing." She knew she was blushing and prayed that her father wasn't watching her. But deep down she knew he was doing just that. "I'll probably see him later or something."

"Then we have a few minutes alone," David said. "Mind if I ask what's going on with the two of you?"

"Subtle, Dad," she said. "Real subtle."

David chuckled. "I get that a lot," he said. "But seriously. Your mother, Regina, Robin, Henry, Ruby, Belle, Elsa, Granny, Leroy, and half of Storybrooke are dying to know. And as much as we want to know, nobody wants to ask you or him. For safety reasons and all." He stood up from his desk and walked towards hers. Lifting a stack of files and placing them on a nearby chair, he commandeered the corner of her desk as his own.

"Did you draw the short straw?" she asked. "And you've tried this before. I don't do this kind of conversation."

"Are you stalling or avoiding?" David asked in return. His hand reached out and picked up the coffee mug of pens and pencils on her desk. "Because most people around here are getting whiplash from your reactions. Sometimes you look at Hook like he's water in the desert. And other times your reaction is like he's gum on the bottom of your shoe. You invite him to join you, but then you roll your eyes that he would dare join you. When he's not around you are looking over your shoulder for him. You bring him into conversations. And don't think I haven't noticed those looks you give him when you think everyone else is preoccupied."

"I…" Emma started to say.

"I know. You don't want to talk about it, especially not with me. And I'm not going to pretend to know what you're thinking or feeling. But I want to understand a little more." He swirled the cup as though it was filled with coffee, making the contents rattle.

"I'm not good at this," she admitted. "I'm not comfortable with it either. I…I can't say that I've ever successfully told anyone how I feel about them without it biting me in the ass somehow." She placed one more report on the stack and looked down at the empty spot on her desk. "I'm not sure that I even want to know how I feel sometimes. That makes it more real. That makes it hurt more when it goes wrong."

David bowed his head. "When I met your mother I was in awe of her strength and bravery," David said, trying another tactic. "But I was also annoyed by those same traits. She knew exactly what to say and do to get under my skin. The one thing that tied all that together was that she made me feel everything. I could talk to her and feel like she was the most interesting and delightful woman I had ever met. I could argue with her and feel like she was infuriating and the last person on earth I ever wanted to see again. I might beg her to leave, but the moment she was gone I was wondering when I'd see her again. When she wasn't around I found myself wondering how she would react to something or what she would think if she saw me succeed at a task."

Emma took in a deep breath and tried to ignore the sour feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to have this conversation. And when she thought about it, she imagined it with her mother rather than her father. "Let's say," she began, "that I have similar thoughts or feelings. Do you really think this can or will ever be anything close to what you have with mom? We're very different."

He dropped the mug back on the desk and held up one finger. "That's one," he said. "You have different backgrounds. He's a pirate. You're a princess. He's from a different century. Those kinds of things?"

"They add up," Emma answered. "You can't ignore them."

"No, you can't ignore them," David conceded. "But if it was that simple that you simply weren't compatible because of your backgrounds, you would have pushed him away for good. So what makes you want to try with him?"

For a moment she considered telling him that he was wrong. She could have told him that she wasn't trying anything. She could make a big production of telling him that Killian was simply a warm body who she wasn't related to that satisfied certain urges. It might shock him that his daughter thought that way, but he might believe it. But it wasn't an honest answer. "He is annoying," she conceded, trying to make herself more comfortable by starting with a negative. "He assumes he knows what I'm thinking or what I need. That in itself isn't totally annoying, but what is a pain in the rear is that he is almost always right. Even when I'm too busy reacting to the latest crisis to analyze how I am feeling or what I'm thinking, he's already got it figured out. It's like we're a team, but more than that. We're almost one person sometimes. We are both impulsive and don't always act in the smartest ways, but we help each other see that."

David smiled. "And you…"

"And I like that a lot," Emma admitted shyly. "I like that he believes in me. I like that tries to do things to make me happy. He's like a kid in that way. He says things to get a reaction out of me and then waits to watch that reaction. He doesn't jump in and try to take over for me. He trusts me to do the right things. He trusts me to win with or without his help. And either way he wants to celebrate with me." She rolled her eyes at her father and put both hands up to her face to feel the warmth of her blush. "And I swear I hate having a conversation like this."

David watched her for a moment, his eyes studying her reaction to her own admission. "I won't kid you that I have not always been a fan of Hook," he said. "I've told him point blank to stay away from you and that he'd never earn the right to be with you. He ignored that. And your mother has pointed out to me more than a few times that he is one and only person we've ever seen elicit more than a quick grin from you. We've seen the way he's taken care of you. We've seen the way he's helped you or encouraged you."

She laughed uncomfortably. "And that means you approve?" she asked.

"Don't jump to conclusions," David said. "It means that we trust you and your judgment. If, and I do mean if, he's the one for you, I think your mother and I can see that and can appreciate it. We have that in common with him. We all want you to be happy."

"So your opinion is that it is up to me," she said.

David grinned. "I asked him once what his intentions were," he admitted. "I was trying to be a father. He told me something that you should know. He told me that whatever you two became was up to you as much as it was up to him. That was a pretty good answer for a man who is obviously crazy about you and wants a relationship with you no matter what that entails. I can't speak for him, but he would honestly be happy with any involvement in your life. So when it comes down to it, I don't worry about you when it comes to him. I worry about him when it comes to you."

She laughed again, her eyes beginning to relax. "So you're asking my intentions toward him?"

"Maybe I am," David laughed. "Or maybe I'm just telling you that if your mother and I are confused about your intentions and feelings that maybe he is too. Maybe you might want to try to figure it out with him. Maybe you might want to stop giving us all whiplash."

"Maybe people need to mind their own business."

David nodded again. "Maybe so, but it isn't likely to happen here. So taking off my father's hat for a moment I'm going to give you some advice as a friend and co-worker. If you can't be honest with us about what you are feeling, please be honest with him. Tell him what you're thinking and feeling. Even if it comes out as bipolar or awkward. As a dad I have to give him the lecture that I'll kill him if he hurts you, but he doesn't have anyone to give you that lecture. So I'm going to do it. Don't hurt him, Emma."

_**I hope you enjoyed that. I was trying to decide if it should be David or Mary Margaret having that conversation with Emma. I went with David since I believe he's got the better connection with her. Plus I think Mary Margaret would be less practical and more interested in figuring out if it is true love. Let me know what you think. Thanks!**_


	15. Chapter 15 - Stepping

_**Thank you to all of you who are reading and following with my story, but a special thank you to all of you who are reviewing it. I appreciate the feedback, questions, challenges, and smiles. I own nothing but my feelings. **_

He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, listening to the water lapping at the pilings and taking in the scent of the salty air. While some people complained that they never felt comfortable with the ever changing seas, he was the opposite. It was where he was most comfortable and it was land that made him unsteady and unsure. Killian Jones was at home on a ship, but he was trying to be at home someplace else.

The prince's footsteps were heavy on the dock, unsure and unsteady with the tide coming in and the gentle sway of the boards becoming more pronounced. He cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but if he scared Killian, it was not clear on either of their faces.

"I was just headed back in the vicinity of the station," Killian said in a guilty tone. "I don't have much to report though."

David looked out at the fog that had yet to burn off over the water, creating a thick wall of obscurity. "Emma's expecting you this afternoon sometime," he said. "She's got an appointment this morning though."

"Aye," Killian said with a nod. "The doctor, correct? Needing a clean bill of health?"

David motioned toward the shoreline and one of the benches that had been placed there. "Something like that," he said. "Why don't we have a seat? I'd like to hear about your findings and…"

Killian took a step in that direction, slowly at first. "I didn't find much. The ice wall does extend into the harbor, making it impossible to get a ship out of this general area. It appears just as tall as the ones on land, but I can't quite find how deep."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, David followed Killian to a bench and sat at one end with the pirate at the other. "She is a bit demanding," he said with a smile. "My daughter that is…"

He arched an eyebrow and thought back to his gaffe when he had referred to Mary Margaret as such. It wasn't good form to do so, but the words had popped out when he had seen how the prince had leapt at the opportunity to be at his wife's beck and call. He was not one to comment though, as more than one person had pointed out, Killian was just as bad. When he had walked Emma to the station that morning, she had only to smile at him and ask for his assistance to have him agree before he even heard the request.

"I'd gladly do anything for her in gratitude that she is healthy and well after the incident in the cave," Killian said. "Any word on what actually transpired?"

"Not really," David said reluctantly. "Gold and Ingrid are both missing. It's too quiet and we're all sitting ducks until one or both show back up. Elsa can't get the ice wall down. Emma is…"

"She's looking at it like she would if she were in New York or Boston," Killian finished. He shrugged a bit at the prince's shock. "Mate, despite the fact that she has quite powerful magic, she's always a practical and levelheaded person. Her first instinct is to see things as non-magical."

David shook his head and laughed. "You do know her well," he said. "She is exactly that way. She's always looking for the non-magical answer or solution. Magic is usually the last on the list of possibilities for her."

"Don't suspect zebras when you hear hoof beats," Killian said quietly. "I don't know what that means, but it is something she has said on more than one occasion."

Both men looked as the seagulls dipped and landed on the boats and anything that would stand still. Each seemed to be choreographed to the next. "You really pay attention to what she says," David finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "You listen to her."

"I can't help it," Killian said with a short laugh. "She's always had that effect on me. When I first met her in the Enchanted Forest she was determined to leave me for dead, but all I paid attention to was her. I wanted to know more about her." He flushed with the admission to her father and mentally chastised himself.

David turned his head to study the other man's expression. He had heard from his wife how Killian had tried his best to distract and deceive them, but even at that time, his attentions always seemed drawn to Emma. He had watched her reactions, said things to encourage those reactions, and studied her as though she was the final course he needed before graduation. "She's not easy to get to know," David admitted. "I've been trying and honestly I can say there are times I get frustrated and want to give up."

"But you haven't."

David laughed. "I haven't," he agreed. "But neither have you." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and curled them around the edge of the smooth wood of the bench. "That's very admirable, actually."

"Or imprudent," Killian answered.

David took a deep breath. "Alright…I'm done. I am going to have this conversation with you and avoid beating around the bush."

"Are we about to have another conversation about my intentions?" Killian asked nervously. He cleared his throat.

"No," David said, patting the other man's shoulder and then pulling his hand back sharply. "I had a chat with Emma earlier. She's…well you know how she is and that she is a little on the closed side of things. And I've already warned you before about what would happen if you hurt her."

"I wouldn't do that," Killian said. "Besides the fact that this entire town would string me up if I so much as made her cry, I couldn't live with myself either. She's…"

David shook his head and put both hands up to his temples. "I don't need to hear what you are thinking about my daughter, right now," he said vehemently. "You, acting as Prince Charles, were clear enough on those feelings back in the Enchanted Forest. This is not…I just wanted to tell you that I had a chat with Emma and I sort of…well…kind of warned her." His facial muscles tensed and his eyes squeezed shut. Opening one, he looked at Killian's confused expression.

"Warned her about me?" he asked.

"No," David answered.

"Then?"

"I warned her not to hurt you," David explained. "Someone needed to do it."

***AAA***

Emma stood in the middle of the empty room and noted the peeling paint, the uneven floors, and the awkward layout. But for some reason, she was liking the space. It felt warm and comfortable. She could imagine a couch in front of the fireplace, a chair and ottoman facing the window. A table for four could fit in the alcove and the kitchen island would be a great place host a big meal or prepare cookies with her mother.

"It's two bedrooms and an office space that could convert to a bedroom if you were creative," Belle said, flipping through the notes on a pad of paper. "Central heat and air, plus a working fireplace here and in the master bedroom. Two baths, close to downtown, adjacent parking, and…" She walked over to the large windows and pulled up on the blinds. They hung crookedly. "A great view."

"It's nice…" Elsa said, running her hands along the cracked tile on the counter. "Just needs a little work. Maybe some paint?"

"Yellow," Belle said. "I think this room should be yellow."

Emma mentally laid out furniture, seeing a fire in the fireplace and Henry doing his homework at the kitchen table. She could see her little brother playing with trains and trucks on the hardwood floors, trying to skid in his socks on their smoothness. Her father would be trying to repair things and her mother sneaking tastes of dinner to offer some unsolicited advice. She could see Killian sitting next to her, reading his favorite passages from some obscure book that he found at the library aloud as they curled up together under a throw blanket that they found together in some craft shop on a Saturday afternoon drive. She smiled.

"Emma," Belle said, calling her attention. "If you don't like this one…"

"I like it," Emma said with a smile. "I want to take it."

Belle grinned, placing the notepad aside and pulling out a piece of paper. "I've never done one of these before," she admitted. In Gold's absence she was trying to take over some of his assets. She knew that there was little possibility that anything would return to normal if and when he returned. But her father and the lawyer he had hired had suggested that she seize a portion of the real estate that he held. "Why don't we go to Granny's and settle on the rent and whatnot."

"Sounds good," Emma said. "Thank you."

_**I think it is about time that Emma take a step and look at renting something of her own. While she has said that Storybrooke is now her home, she still lives like someone afraid of making that commitment. So I just sped that along a little. **_


	16. Chapter 16 - Flirting

_**So this chapter was a little more fun to write. I hope you enjoy some fluffy flirtation and romance. As always, I own nothing other than the Christmas and Hanukah gifts I still have to wrap. **_

She wished he would quit looking at her that way. She wished he would never stop. He did that to her no matter what the occasion, creating a juxtaposition that left her frustrated, happy, and all together wanting him at the most inopportune moments.

Her new apartment was becoming more crowded by the minute. Elsa and Belle had both painted every room, using soft shades of blues, yellows, and greens. Emma commented that she was not really the pastel type, but her mother told her to quit complaining and be glad that they did not go with pink. David had tightened every door knob, added extra security features, and run background checks on her neighbors. Henry, who had not complained about the soft colors, had covered his walls with posters and filled two book shelves with memorabilia and comic books.

"Swan?" Killian asked, softly closing the now empty box in front of him on the table. "Are you feeling alright?" He sat on the soft green sofa, only the second person to do so in her new apartment. They were surrounded by boxes. Some of them from New York and others containing items that she had bought in anticipation of this move. There was barely a trail from the living room to the apartment's bedrooms, but she was happy to report there had been progress. The empty cardboard containers were outnumbering the full ones.

Emma stifled a groan and plastered on a smile. "Perfect," she said. "Never better." She felt his eyes on her, labeling her a liar and a bad one at that. She wasn't fine. She hadn't been fine in weeks. Or maybe ever. She was 30 years old, but perpetually 14 when he was around. She was feeling immature, idiotic, and giddy at the same time. But maybe he was just talking about her health. In that way she was fine.

He watched her for a moment, the expression of the cocky and domineering pirate giving way for something more tender and concerned. Damned if she didn't love that look on him too. She lifted her right hand to smooth her hair, a nervous tick much as the way he scratched behind his ear when anxious or the way his comments became darker and filled with innuendo when he was avoiding a more personal topic. "Maybe I'm just hungry," she said, though the thought of food wasn't appealing to her either. "It's been a while since breakfast."

He studied her for a moment as though he didn't quite believe her, but pushed back from the table and walked over to the couch for his coat. "Any requests?" he asked. "Perhaps some soup would be to your liking since it is so unpleasant out today?" The cold front that had moved through was over, leaving behind warmer air that was unstable at best. A steady rain had begun to fall, staining the landscape with gray skies and bare trees blowing with increasing strength.

She felt a rush of panic, realizing that her desire to just say something to fill the silence meant that he was leaving. That was the last thing she wanted to make happen. She had to fix it. "I'm sure there is something around here," she said, pointing to the half-unpacked kitchen. "My mother took my debit card and spent about $200 at the grocery store. Surely she bought food."

She rose from her spot on the floor as gracefully as she could with the numbness settling into her legs. His eyes were on her as she walked from the living room to the kitchen and began to open and close the cabinets. She was muttering about being over helpful and not knowing where a damn thing was in her own apartment. Even with her head in the refrigerator, she could hear his chuckle at her frustration. But she didn't care. She could find something there and not send him away just as she was starting to semi-enjoy the feelings that grasped her in his presence. "Grilled cheese?" she asked, holding up four different packages of cheese her mother had bought. "I've got cheddar, gruyere, pepper jack, and mozzarella. Or there are some grapes. I think I saw some granola bars. There's even chicken in here. If I could figure out where my pans are then I could…"

"You're the hungry one," he reminded her. She was blabbering, which he found adorable if not a bit odd for her.

Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that he had again removed his jacket. While he wasn't sitting down, he was standing and watching her inventory her food supply with an amused expression on his face.

"Right," she said, settling on the cheddar. "Grilled cheese then. Are you wanting one too?" Her eyes darted away from him as he threw up his arms and stretched, his shirt pulling against his chest. Why did he do that? Couldn't he see that she was struggling to not react to him? But then the thought occurred that maybe that was why he did it. Damn him.

"I could be persuaded into one."

She busied herself with the bread, butter, and cheese. It took a good five minutes to find a spatula, but her triumphant smile when she found it had made him smile brighter. She wasn't sure that was such a good thing, as she almost dropped the bread on the floor when he did.

"When are your parents coming back?" he asked, rooting through another box to arrange books on a nearby shelf. "I thought they'd be here by now."

She squished the first sandwich with the spatula and smiled at the sizzle. "I sent them back to the loft," she said. "Neal's been fussy all day and I didn't want Belle to have to deal with that. So I suggested that they go back and rest. They have their own work to do since I've moved out. That is space they could use for something else." She realized then that it was dawning on him that they were actually alone in a private place. There were no parents to barge in at any time, no Granny watching them suspiciously. With their absence, she was remarkably running out of excuses.

He nodded absently, fingering her copy of some novel that she hadn't read in a few years. "And Henry?"

"Regina's," she answered. "He needed to do some research on the computer for school. I haven't set mine up yet." She flipped the sandwiches just in time, avoiding burning them. "It's just us right now." Her stomach flipped and she wondered for a moment if she could manage to eat her sandwich. She'd heard of butterflies in your stomach before, but she had a circus in hers. This wasn't the wooziness of those first preadolescent crushes she'd had on boy bands or pretty boys. It was stronger than the slight jump she felt when Neal had kissed her for the first time. Either she was really falling for Killian Jones or she was coming down with a stomach virus. She wasn't sure which one she was hoping for at that time.

He was carrying the box toward the door, tossing it with the others that he would later break down and help her carry out for recycling. "Empty," he said as though she was questioning his motives.

"Thank you," she said to him, flipping the sandwiches onto a plate and then foraging back in the narrow pantry for a bag of chips she thought she remembered. "I meant to say that earlier. You have been a huge help with all this. You've moved furniture, carried boxes, unpacked, helped me…"

Holding up his hand, he tried to stop her. "I'm not sure how much help I am," he said. "I have dropped more things than I should to be helpful." He watched her curiously, almost as if he was trying to read her and not succeeding.

"You're always helping," she said. "Even if you're just standing there and telling me that I'm going to be okay." That was the closest she had given him to a compliment in a while. It never quite felt organic, though she wished she could say the things she wanted to say. She wanted to remind him that he helped her by calming her down when she was nuts with worry. She wanted to thank him for holding her close to him and letting her feel protected instead of making her be the responsible one. There was also the way that he cared for her when everyone else had moved on that made her feel better about him than she probably should.

He went to clear away a few of the boxes that sat on the dining room table, but she stopped him. "I thought we could eat on the couch," she suggested. "More comfortable that way." He didn't question her and moved to the largest piece of furniture in the living room. She practically laughed at the sight of him readjusting throw pillows and trying to settle himself in against the cushions. He took one plate from her, their fingers brushing momentarily.

"I forgot the drinks," she said, dropping her own plate on the coffee table and hurrying back into the kitchen. She called out to him all the drinks she had available, rambling about ice or no ice. That was another thing she could have thanked him for, she realized. His patience. He never ridiculed her for it or patronized. He usually seemed amused that she could go from sheriff to blabbering idiot within seconds. She hated that he found that cute, but it still made her blush on those few occasions that he silenced her stream of consciousness monologues with a kiss of a single finger against her lips.

"Much better than Granny's," he said to her, taking a large bite of the still hot sandwich.

"I didn't know it was a contest," she said simply. Her fingers closed around the sandwich and took an even larger bite from it. Steady, she told herself. The habit of forcing herself to not waste food or to eat quickly before it was gone was a hard one to break. But dainty bites weren't normal for her.

"If it was," he said, "you'd win every time, no matter the opponent." Again with the softness in his voice, she thought. She could handle the quips, jabs, and intimations with her own brand of sarcasm and humor. But lately he had been a more indulgent man, letting his eyes, hand, and touch linger for a beat longer than it had before. It was disconcerting in the way he left her staring after him with a gaping mouth. But even worse was the way that they replayed in her mind at every inopportune time.

She was thankful that her mouth was full of sandwich, as she didn't have to speak. Instead, she crammed in another potato chip and prayed that he would say something more benign before she had to speak up again.

"For a woman who said she travels light," he said with a teasing tone, "you have quite a number of boxes."

Folding up her legs under her, she turned to face him. His left arm was resting on the back of the sofa and she placed her own right arm over it. If the move surprised him, he didn't say a word about it. "Even with all the moving, the running away, the dashing rapscallion showing up at my door and whisking me away to Maine, I've managed to collect more than a few things. Plus I'm trying to make this a home for Henry. So if that means I actually buy a vacuum cleaner and an iron, I'll do it."

He nodded. "Henry must be very pleased that you are no longer in the cramped quarters of your parents," he said. "This apartment is bigger than most of the hovels in the Enchanted Forest, but not as big as the castles."

Shrugging, she let her hand rest near his shoulder, fingers delicately tracing the seam of his sleeve. "It's bigger than any I've had to myself," she said. "Most of my apartments have been studios – just one room. You can barely hear yourself think for all the noises of the neighbors, traffic, and whatever else was going on next door or above you."

"Sounds much like living on a ship," he commented. "The life at sea is a glorious one, but privacy is a rare commodity on a ship like the Jolly Roger. It's the same people in the same cramped space. You know who snores, who smells, who talks in their sleep. You know who is fighting, who is missing someone, and who is crazy."

She watched his face brighten at the mention of his ship. That was another thing, she remembered. She was thankful that he had given up his ship for her. But that also was a weight on her shoulders. What if one day he realized that she wasn't worth it? What if someday he regretted that decision? Where would that leave her? Of course he noticed that she was thinking, but she hoped again that he could not read her thoughts.

"You spend quite a bit of time doing that," he said, reaching out his hand to trace along the side of her face.

"Doing what?"

"Thinking," he explained. "I don't know what crosses your mind, but your face tells me that if it is a sweet thought or a troubling one. Right now, I'm seeing you with that troubled expression." His own brow furrowed as he studied her, smoothing out the way her face pinched at the pressure. "I wish you'd share with me what makes you look so dismayed."

Emma tried to relax her expression, smiling. "Do you regret it?" she asked. "I seem to be able to destroy your plans more than help you. Without me interfering you and Cora would have had no problem getting here to Storybrooke. You could have enacted your revenge on Gold. You'd still have your ship." She shook her head. "Wouldn't you be happier?"

He tilted his head. "Where is this coming from, Emma?" he asked. "You can honestly fathom that I regret any decision I've made or any circumstance that has led me to you? You're beautiful, caring, and smart, but in matters of reading me, you're not the brightest."

She playfully slapped his shoulder. "I'm not an idiot," she said. "I just wonder sometimes. I wonder why you want to be with me of all the women out there. I wonder when you'll realize that…"

"Realize what?" he asked. "That you are more amazing the more I get to know about you? That you make me feel like I'm the luckiest man alive?"

She blushed deeper. "I'm not denying that you have great taste," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "And your admiration is something that I'm not used to or sure about, really. I just wonder if I can live up to it. I'm not perfect, Killian. And I don't know how to pretend that I am."

"I don't want you to pretend," he said carefully. "I don't think you're perfect. You aren't. I know that. You are infuriating, annoying, and have a ton of bad habits. But I still can't keep my eyes off of you. I still enjoy the way you try my patience and challenge me."

The light from the fireplace illuminated her smile. "You aren't perfect either," she reminded him. "But I can't figure out what I would change about you even if I had that power or choice. I can only think of circumstances that I'd change so that your life was happier and that you smiled more."

"You like my smile then?" he asked, a bit uncharacteristically vulnerable for him.

"Yes," she said. "You have a few that are pretty adorable. There's the smile when you are up to something you know will make me mad. Then there is the smile when you're proud of yourself or me. And the smile when you want to share something with me and you're just bursting with questions or the news of it."

He chuckled. "I don't think many women or men have ever referred to me as adorable," he said. "You're a very brave woman to do it."

She looked away for a moment and then flipped her face back to him. "No," she disagreed. "I'm not. I just like your smile and I like that sometimes I'm the reason for it."

"Always," he corrected. "You're always the reason for it."

Killian leaned closer to her, covering her hand in his and kissing first one corner of her mouth and then the other before their lips met. Gentle at first, the kiss evolved and grew until she was feeling the pull of it like a drowning woman. She had heard people use the phrase about becoming lost in a moment, but this was truly what they had meant. She didn't hear the sound of a clap of thunder or the strangle gurgle of her refrigerator that worried her usually. The grilled cheese remnants were left to cool on the plates and the half empty bag of chips crinkled as she scooted closer to him.

When the need for air overwhelmed her need to kiss him, she pulled back and gasped. His eyes were drilling into her, studying her for any sign of her revolt or fear. She hoped that she showed none. "You…" she began softly. Then she laughed at herself. While she did not have his way with words, she was known for her ability to have the perfect thing to say. "You are very good at that…"

He looked confused for a moment, weighing the meaning of her words to the point that she almost regretted them. "Am I?" he asked.

"Yes, you're good at kissing," she laughed softly. "You're good at that and making me feel safe." The second part came out by accident, but the way his eyes brightened at her comment made it worth it. "I'm not used that. I always expect the worst. I always expect you to do something wrong or to hurt me, but then I realize that you never do. I think that's why it has been so hard for me to say it."

He looked at her with such intensity, such pain and loneliness, she did the only thing that seemed right. Pulling him to her, she gently kissed him square on the lips. Separating his lips under hers, she deepened the kiss, then pulled back. With new tears and a quiver in her voice, she let out the one sentiment she had been holding back her whole life. "I love you," she whispered.

She'd said the words to Neal, but only when she thought he was dying. There was no danger present at the moment and that scared her more than anything. She could not blame it on emotion or fear that they wouldn't survive. God, what was she doing, she thought. It was too soon. She didn't want to scare him away, but she couldn't help how she felt. The last time she was ever close to love, she missed her opportunity. She was complicating things, she knew that.

Looking at Killian though, she knew that what she had with Neal wasn't love. The potential was there, but it would have never worked out. They had been too desperate and both too full of secrets to ever fully know each other. But Killian, he was another story. Just as afraid of love as she was, yet he seemed so vulnerable in her arms that she had to tell him. Emma wanted him to know because he needed to hear it. He needed her love to wrap around him, protect him just the same as she did.

Emma didn't know if she had done the right thing, but as soon as she said it, a tremendous weight lifted from her shoulders. After all, it was Killian. If anyone could understand her admission, it would be him. He'd know what it had taken for her to utter those words. The fact was she wasn't just trying to comfort him, or ease her own guilt, but she was feeling such immense emotion herself that she had to let it out.

Killian was the only man in she had let into her life not to take advantage of her. He didn't want to use her and forget her. He wasn't looking to cheat or to have a trophy on his arm. He was looking for the exact same thing she was. A soul mate. Someone who filled the aching void left in her heart, left from years of searching for revenge for the murder of his first love. Killian knew her fears because they were his own.

His expression remained fixed on her, gauging her admission and trying to decide how to answer. He was probably expecting her to run and hide after her announcement. But she wasn't making a move. Even now, as they sat huddled together, she made no attempt to leave him. Somewhere along the way, between their playful banter and heated exchanges that doubled as foreplay, he began to care. As much as he tried to deny himself, he couldn't any longer. She had become more than a challenge to him. He wanted more than just to win her heart. He wanted to protect it, cherish it.

"Killian?" Emma said quietly, when he hadn't made a move for a few minutes. Then tension was thick, coating the air and filling the room with tiny insecure pieces of doubt. Had she made a mistake?

He answered her with a soulful kiss, gently parting her lips to slowly enter her mouth with his tongue. The kiss was slow, showering her lips with tiny drops of his tongue and teeth, even salty tears, until he pulled away slowly, taking her face in his hands. He studied her, making sure he had heard right, that it wasn't a dream and she was really confessing her love. He knew what it meant, not only to her but to him also. They were both so wrapped up in their own fear of commitment, and now she was freely offering her love.

"I love you, too," he whispered quietly, making sure to look her in the eye. He did love her. Everything in him told him he did and he had for a long time, but it was difficult to put into words. How do you tell someone they are the center of your universe? Once the sentiment was out there, it was frightening, because he was telling Emma he couldn't live without her, he didn't want to.

_**Just like you leave Santa some cookies and milk, please leave me a few reviews. **_

_**The next chapter will be a higher rating (M) because that is how I am going to roll with this story. If you are too young or easily offended or not interested in that part of the story, please skip the next chapter. It will not change the story meaning if you do so. **_


	17. Chapter 17 - Love (Rated M)

_**For this chapter I'm increasing the rating up to M. If you don't read that kind of stuff, then you can skip it. There is no actual plot development here…just a little fun sexy time. If I owned them, do you really think I'd have to satisfy myself with fan fiction?**_

_**This chapter is longer than expected and I suggest some good ice cream or at least some rum to enjoy it fully. **___

He took her in his arms and held her close to him, never wanting to let go. "I was scared, so scared, that I would always be alone. I wanted to tell you that so long ago, but I didn't want to scare you away. Bloody hell, I alarmed myself with the idea. I've honestly never felt like this. I never knew how dependent I could be on someone."

"I've never told anyone besides Henry and Neal I loved them before," Emma confessed quietly, holding her breath. "It always seemed so hard to do. But I've never known this kind of love. I've never wanted to be so a part of someone's life before. Thank you for letting me love you," she whispered into his chest, knowing that with each word she was losing herself in a battle of wills.

"I don't even think I deserve it," he said slowly, kissing the top of her head.

She looked up at him, no longer afraid of her feelings. "Killian, please don't say that. I know you've been hurt. We both have. You've done some shitty things and so have I. But maybe together we can figure out how to get past that. There is nothing wrong with you. You deserve love. And if you can believe that then maybe I can believe it about myself too" Emma sat up a little and cupped his face in her hands.

She hugged him to her, feeling closer to Killian than she'd ever felt to another human being in her life. She gently kissed along his neck, as she moved to his cheek and jaw.

Outside the confines of the loft, the sky erupted in dizzying bolts of lightning. The rain poured on the waiting city with fat, round drops. He returned her sweet pecks. Finding her mouth appealing, he lightly pressed his lips to hers. Her full lips welcomed him without reserve, tasting the first inkling of passion that was beginning to rise within him. For the first time, he was taking the lead, letting himself explore the glorious curves of her body. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, taking in her beauty and feminine scent. His heart began to pound strongly against his chest, picking up speed as his tongue swept against her neck.

Emma held him close, letting her hands trail down his back while he presented her with wonderful flows of pleasure. She playfully twirled the short tufts of hair behind his ears in her fingers. He laid them down on the couch, moving on top of her smaller frame, holding himself up with his powerful arms. He looked her in the eye, unable to keep himself from staring into her darkened eyes as he touched her waiting body. She felt soft under him, and he worried he might be scaring her, but she tried to pull him down closer, loving the way he felt on top of her. She tugged at his shirt collar, trying to bring him closer to her. All she wanted was to feel every new sensation, every touch and taste, fully.

The lights flickered before the room went completely black, and they barely noticed except for a laugh from her that she hadn't done that. A storm, which had erupted outside and had been going on for a while, was unnoticed up to this point, because they had been so wrapped up in each other and getting their feelings across. But now it was difficult not to pay attention. He let his gaze drift from her for a slight moment when he noticed the sudden darkness. He listened to the blowing wind and scattered rain against the window pane and nearly laughed. It was loud, and he wondered how they had been so oblivious.

His eyes returned to her, and he bent down to kiss her forehead. Then he realized their first time should not happen the way it already was. She deserved more than a couch in the middle of the living room, and he was going to give it to her. He sat up on the side of the couch, with Emma looking at him with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he assured her, scooping her up into his arms. He walked slowly, clumsily down the darkened hall to her room, carrying Emma with him. When they reached the pitch black bedroom, he stumbled slightly, looking for the bed. Finally, he set her down among the newly washed sheets and fluffy pillows. "Wait here," he told her sweetly. "I want to be able to see your face."

She grabbed his arm to stop him and waved her free hand at her dresser where she had placed several decorative and scented candles. Just that tiny wave lit them all to which she laughed and pulled him back down to her.

She watched the flickers of lightning through the large glass windows from her place on the bed. A loud smack of thunder rippled through the air, making her jump slightly. Emma smiled up at him. Kneeling on the bed, she put her arms around him and kissed his awaiting lips so tenderly and deliberately, signaling she was ready to do the same. Emma pulled back slightly, engulfing him once again in a hug. She could never get enough of his arms around her, making her feel safe and protected. She moved her fingers over his face, tracing his jawline and lips, letting her finger rest against his bottom, pouting lip. He lightly kissed her finger and took her hand in his, dropping tiny kisses on the rest of her fingers and palm.

Emma ran her fingers along his back, pulling his shirt out of his pants. Leaving the wrinkled tail of the shirt, she moved to the front, undoing the buttons. She moved the shirt from his shoulder and let it slip to the ground. She caressed his shoulders, following with her mouth, leaving tiny pecks against his skin. Lightly nipping, she moved down the front of his chest, silkily washing her fingers across his skin and the hair that covered the area, surprised to find the goose bumps that rose from her touch.

It excited her that she had that kind of power. That her touch on his skin could bring about such changes in his body. His skin was hot. Very slowly, she worked her fingers down his abdomen, touching all his muscled curves. Looking him in the eye, she knew what she was doing was affecting him. His features were less harsh than they had ever been. His once scowling face had been replaced by one that could only be described as loving.

He bent down slightly, kissing her lips like it was the first and last time he would do so. Their touch was so slow, almost subtle, but they warmed up to it, letting the delicate caresses become heated and unrestrained. He could have taken her right there, wildly, hot and passionate; but instead, he savoured it, loving her fully and completely and showing it all with soft strokes down her back and thighs. 

His heart was beating fast beneath her hand, and she swore she could almost hear it amongst the quickened pace of their breathing. Killian's hand trembled when he touched her, slowly pulling at her sweater. He felt the cashmere slip through his fingers as it fell to the floor, then returned his hand to her mid drift. Emma was not easily broken, and her spirit echoed through her eyes and delicate features. It amazed him, who by fact was a strong, and formidable man and pirate, that he could be turned so weak by her. He wanted to give her everything, make her feel what she did to him, show her what they were capable of together so that she might never doubt it again.

Easily, he coaxed Emma down on the bed, positioning himself beside her. Another kiss claimed them, as his mouth descended on hers. Her tongue was sweet and tasted of every delicacy he could imagine, making him smile into the kiss. Letting his hand linger on her stomach, he propped himself on his side so he was looking down at her. Uncertain and maybe a little afraid, he let his hand move to the delicate lace of her bra. Exploring gently, he touched her sensitive skin through the thin material. Kissing her deeper, he heard her moan under him, and it encouraged him.

Soft, fleeting strokes over the thin, simple garment were felt by her. He knew exactly how to touch her, and she trembled against him. His hand though without its mate was a tool taking her far from this earth into a heaven she had never known, a place where tiny angels danced on your skin and whispered glorious songs into your ears. She felt the layers of clothing being shed from both of them, joining the pile on the floor and removing the walls that both had built.

With her assistance, her bra was shed, and his fingers descended down onto her skin, feeling her sweet luscious curves, the tips of his fingers barely making contact. But the feel would be unforgettable, burned into her brain from now until eternity. It was tender, unhurried, when he gently met the curves of her full breasts. The light shimmered against her skin, raining it with soft silver hues, emanating from the window. She looked like a goddess bleached in fine diamonds. He kissed her skin with touches so light and feather like it was as if the wind was drifting over her. Meeting her breasts, he traced his fingers ever so lightly against the blushing ripeness of her skin, his lips and tongue feasted, suckling tenderly. More than ever she was his, claimed by him.

Moving his hand shakily up and down her body, he realized just how right it felt. Reaching the button of her pants, he didn't hesitate taking the zipper down and moving over to pull the confining material off of her hips and past her feet, along with her silk panties. He touched her then, as if he'd never seen another woman in all of his life, watching her as if she was a mystery that he was desperate to solve. Her eyes lit up as if she had never known such an experience.

The smell of the candles kissed Emma's nose, treating her senses. She watched Killian touch her, felt his skin on hers, and was overcome with emotion. This was clearly the first time either of them had taken so much time to just feel and touch another person, and it felt perfect. She watched his eyes twinkle against the slight glow of the candle and knew he would always be there for her.

She ran her fingers through his hair as he assaulted her legs and then thighs with tiny kisses. She pulled him closer to her, flipping herself over so she was on top of him. Letting her hands roam his body, she found the buckle of his belt and undid it, along with the button and zipper of his pants. She helped him wiggle out of his clothing, as she continued to kiss his swollen lips. The thunder lightning cracked through the sky, giving the room temporary light so she could see her partner, virile and real.

"I love you," he whispered against her ear, unable to hide anymore. He could only stare in wonder as she reached out to him and unfastened his brace, pressing her lips to his to swallow his protests that she did not want to see that or feel the scars.

"I don't want you to hide behind anything," she told him. "We're just us right now. You're not a pirate and I'm not a Savior. We're just Killian and Emma."

She could feel him hard under her and sighed into another kiss, lightly rocking against him. He flipped her over, now on top, still devouring her mouth. He was pressed against her, and he could feel her egging him on, wanting to feel him inside her. They had come so close before, and now it felt right. There was no backing away as he had in the past, and she finally understood why. They had never had such an experience in all of their lives. Taking things so slowly, so tenderly was foreign to both of them, but it felt natural, needed almost. Before they could be together, they wanted to know every part of themselves and each other.

Looking into her eyes, he felt her legs part below him, bringing him to her entrance. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and moved inside her in a solid stoke, holding himself in place. The feeling of completeness that wrapped around him was overwhelming, and he could feel the tears brim in his eyes. She shifted under him, adjusting to his invasion, touched by his trembling features.

She moved first, sure he would follow suit, and he did, slowly pulling out almost completely and then driving back inside her waiting depths. Emma whimpered softly at the feeling overwhelming her. Finally, after all this time, they were together, making love; and suddenly, she realized that's what he had intended the entire time, maybe had even planned.

He caressed the side of her face as he moved within her, keeping the pace unhurried and intentionally making her crave more. He took long strokes, almost leaving her completely sometimes, and she moaned underneath him, begging for him to stay. The slightest retreat made her heart feel heavy, as she wanted to feel him closer to her. Running her fingers down his back, she desperately tried to pull him closer, aware of the heat beginning to radiate within her. The fine hum of their bodies was driving her insane with pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him, bringing him into her harder.

He lost his rhythm and moved faster, which she approved, but soon he slowed again to that same rhythm that had her rattled with protest. He kissed her neck and breasts, driving her to let go, forcing her to confront the rival feelings that lay hidden inside her. He stirred her body into an overflow of heat, scorching her soul until she had no other option than to scream out as the first orgasm ripped through her body, arching her hips up against him in extreme delight and some confusion. She called out his name as though grasping for the reality that he was there.

He smiled down at her, kissing her lips and the corners of her mouth, letting her recover slightly before he began to move again, sticking with the same slow rhythm that had driven her over the edge. Her skin was already salty from the sticky sweat between them. Her breathing was erratic, and her features were starting to glow. More, he told himself. He wanted to give her more. Letting his hand travel along her body, he let it rest on her backside, and then flipped them over.

Emma, now on top, had all the power and was willing to inflict the same sort of sultry torture. She moved over him, slowly at first and then faster when she couldn't maintain the same sense of control he had exerted. Pulling him up towards her, she kissed his warm lips, glorified in the feeling of having him under her. Practically sitting now, she hugged him tight to her, letting her breasts sandwich between them. "Oh God," she said breathlessly. "Killian I can't…"

He moaned into her, moving his hips against hers. The blood rushed to his head, until he thought he would go blind. The heat was intense, and he felt he could barely breathe. She was everything and still more that he had ever wanted, and that thought consumed him. The waves of pleasure began to claim her body, and her head lulled back, unable to hold herself upright. He caught her, holding her shoulders and kissing the slippery skin between her breasts. "Let go!" he whispered against her ear.

The heat flashed before her eyes. On a sudden bolt of electricity that tinted the sky, she released all the tension from her body, letting her senses be overridden by an ocean of pleasure. The waves crashed against her hard, bringing him with her past the reefs and into the deep heart of the sea where they were unprotected from the swallowing depths that tossed them about.

She collapsed against him, bringing them both back against the mattress. Their breathing was erratic at best. They lay silenced by the momentum that was slowly receding, bringing them back to this world. Her ear was firmly planted on his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. They sank into the serene afterglow of making love, lightly sighing sleepily.

His hand washed over her slick arm in a gentle caress. "You okay?" he asked, the question hanging loosely in the air.

She grunted softly, unable to find the words for the emotions consuming her. She was humbled by his excessive need to give to her and enlightened as to why people glorified love making. Never in her life had she felt so comforted, so a part of another human that she forgot where she ended and he began, as clichéd as it sounded. Even now, resting comfortably against her lover, she touched his body and somehow was gratified herself.

She kissed his skin that had been out of bounds for her before and looked up to meet his eyes, those deep blue pools that had guided her on a journey she wasn't sure she was ready to come down from or recover from anytime soon. She felt whole. Instead of having that constant burning ache in the pit of her stomach, it seemed to disappear. Did normal people feel like this all the time? Was her life so messed up that she never had fully lived until now? Smiling at Killian, she couldn't fathom going back to a life where he wasn't around. It would be simply impossible.

Her body lay atop of his, allowing him to fully enjoy her weight, the feel of her soft hair draped across her bear body, and the way she breathed. Her chest rose and fell at the same time as his, and it was as if they were one being, taking in the same air and expelling it, just the same. He was still under her, still connected, her body mounting his perfectly. And yet he couldn't help touching her further, letting his hand travel up and down her arm, just to prove it was real.

He moved them slowly so they lay facing each other. She let go of him and eased away gently, groaning at the loss. "I have no words," Killian told her slowly, moving the hair from her face.

"We don't need words, Killian. We never did," Emma told him, wrapping her arms around him once again and rolling them back over. "I like having you under me. That way I know it's not a dream, and when I wake up, you'll still be here."

Killian smiled, just as comfortable to have her lay with him like that. She pressed her forehead against his and just looked into his eyes. Emma moved her head back to his chest and closed her eyes.

Light from the setting sun crept in through the windows with longer fingers that attempted to pry them from their sleep. She grunted slightly as she pulled a spare throw pillow over her top of her head, shielding her eyes from the intrusion. Her cheek was resting on his left arm and her right hand rested on his chest just above his heart. The thin sheet that she had bought just two days ago was twisted around them, no longer attached to the mattress and the comforter she had selected for its bright pattern was cowering a corner after their activities.

"Emma," he said, groggily and his voice heavy with sleep. "Is that you?"

She groaned and wound herself into his side, legs tangling and her breath warm on him. "Who else do you think it is?"

He chuckled, his own hand closing over hers on his chest. "Just checking," he said. "Needed to make sure this wasn't a dream."

She reminded herself to thank Elsa for the suggestion that she might want a larger bed than the full one that her parents had offered to let her take with her. Nothing took the romance or love out of the situation like the idea you were going to fall off the edge of the bed. She peeked out from her make shift cocoon and saw the clock on her night stand. "You do realize we need to get up," she said. "I promised…"

He groaned, but made no move to disentangle himself. "I'm comfortable here," he said thickly. "Nothing could be so important as to force me to get out of this bed."

"My father might object if we call him and tell him that we're not attending my mother's dinner," she said lightly. "He may appreciate you, but if he thinks about what we've been doing, we're both dead."

"Your mother has too many dinners," Killian joked, still not making amove out of the bed. "How many this week?"

Emma giggled. "Two," she admitted. "But she loves to entertain." Resting her other palm on his abdomen, she placed her chin on it and watched him stare back down at her with hooded eyes. "You love those dinners," she reminded him. "My mother might not be carrying the Killian and Emma banner yet, but she treats you like a prince. She even made special food for you last time."

"She does seem to be susceptible to my charms," he joked. "Like mother, like daughter."

"Jerk," she said. "Okay…we really have to get up and ready." But instead of moving from the bed, she let her head fall and her eyes close. He didn't object.

Time passed. How much time, they couldn't say. It seemed that every time they were together, the world slowed, and time became irrelevant. A low, rumbling sound came into the room, filling their ears.

Emma laughed gently against Killian, lightly bouncing on top of him. "Is that your stomach?"

"I thought that was yours," he responded, teasing.

"Maybe we should get something to eat?"

"We will," he told her, laying his head back down on his pillow.

A few minutes went by, and they remained in the same position. "You're not moving," Emma finally said, when another hunger pang ripped through him.

"You're on top of me," he told her, still not making an attempt to leave, and keeping his eyes closed, although a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I was waiting for you."

"We are at cross purposes," he told her. "Alas, I was waiting for you."

"So should we get up?"

"Aye," he said as he reached his hand out and skimmed his fingers along her hair, stroking it gently and then finally letting it rest at the base of her neck.

"Whenever you're ready," Emma said lightly between yawns. It was useless. Neither moved, content to stay where they were, falling victim to their own fatigue. When her parents called an hour later, she made an excuse and told them she would see them soon. He teased her that she was too good at that.

Hours later, Killian awoke just before dawn. The darkness of the room was like a blanket and her candles were one by one dying out. She was no longer draped on top of him. Instead she lay beside him, spooned against his chest. He smiled crookedly at her exposed slender leg, peeking out from under the blankets. Perfect, he thought to himself. Everything about this moment was perfect. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, dropping a light kiss.

The storm broke outside. The rain had washed away a lot of the winter haze and replaced it with fresh scent that was unmistakably coastal. Everything was bathed in the newness, flecked with wet droplets of water. It was beautiful. Even the air seemed fresher. So too, the rain had done wonders for Killian and Emma. Through the night, they had slowly given up their past, bathing their bodies with soft exploratory kisses and deep passionate ones, all for the sake of love.

"Emma!?" Killian gently nudged her.

"Hmm…"

"I love you," he whispered.

She turned to face him then, smiling. "I'm up," she laughed.

"I thought that might work," he laughed.

"You thought right." She kissed him softly on the tip of his nose. "How 'bout some breakfast?"

"Oh, so now that you're hungry it's okay to get out of bed?" he teased.

"Who said anything about me getting out of bed?" she laughed, wrapping the blanket he had retrieved the night before around her.

"I guess that's my cue." Killian disentangled himself from Emma and wrapped the sheet around his waist. She pouted when he left the bed and tried to pull him back, but all she got was the sheet. Tugging hard as he walked away, Emma pulled the sheet right off him. She laughed hard when he did nothing to stop her and kept walking, naked as the day he was born. She pulled the sheet back to the bed and waited for him to return.

He made his way to the kitchen, still nude, and reached into the fridge, grabbing for some fruit and even a few of the pastries that he found boxed on the counter. Piling his findings on a plate, he made his way back to Emma, who pretended to cover her eyes at his approach. Setting the dish down, he bounced on the bed, taking her in his arms and rolling so he was now on top of her. He reached over and picked up a slice of melon, offering it to Emma. She ate hungrily, sucking the remaining juices from his fingers. Even that was too much temptation for him, and he planted his mouth on hers, driven into a deep kiss. He pulled away breathlessly and rolled back over, letting her rest next to him. They continued to eat fruit until all that was left was an orange and a slice of melon. "I'm full," she announced, leaning back against him after she put the plate down.

"I've never experienced anything quite like that," he sighed, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "Last night was amazing, and I'll never forget it."

"Me either. I've never felt like that. You make me feel...I dunno...alive."

"I was thinking the same thing," Killian told her, dropping a kiss on her cheek and pulling her close.

_**Reviews are welcome distractions in my life. **_


	18. Chapter 18 - Forward

Killian left that morning, kissing her softly and promising to see her later. She had considered calling him back to her, wanting another few minutes of being in his arms. But despite the lure of his arms around her and the wanting of his words whispered against her ears, practicality was winning out. And after a lazy hour or two, she had found her resolve.

A few exchanged text messages later, she had told her father she was planning to work with Belle at Gold's shop. Taking a look in the mirror she had hung by her door, she smiled at her reflection. She wasn't a sentimental sort. Neither was she typically the one to express her love first, but somehow that had happened. And now as she stared into the mirror at someone who looked a bit like her, she couldn't help but realize that she was a bit different. Grabbing her jacket, she rushed out the door and toward Granny's establishment.

Granny's was crowded when Emma arrived that morning, but since her mother already had a booth with two of her friends, she sidled her way in next to the brunette and smiled when Ruby brought her a cup of coffee. Though she loved her new apartment, she missed breakfast with her mother and late night chats when the baby wasn't sleeping.

"You look rested," her mother said, lowering the newspaper she had been reading. "I guess that new apartment agrees with you." Mary Margaret's hands curled around her cup and her index finger tapped it in time with the music playing over the stereo. Her eyes wore bags under them, but she smiled sweetly between her daughter and son.

"It's fine," Emma said, nodding at Ashley and Belle who sat across the table. "Perfect, really."

Belle smiled. "That's good to hear as your landlord," she said. "No mechanical issues I need to know about?"

"None," Emma said, taking a sip. "I actually wanted to talk to you about the pawn shop. Maybe we missed something the other day when we were going through it. Would you mind if we take another look?"

"I don't know that there is anything else to discover there," Belle said uncertainly. "But if you think it would help, I've got the keys right here." She and Emma had scoured the place for 10 hours, hoping to find some clue or hint as to Gold's whereabouts. They had found nothing. With him missing, Belle had started to inventory the items to return to the residents of Storybrooke, but the task had become too much for her. So the building sat unoccupied.

"Thanks," Emma said. "I was thinking that Henry might be willing to help you with that inventory."

Belle lowered her eyes to her plate, letting her fork comb through the eggs. "I appreciate it," she said softly. "Honestly I don't know what I hope to find in there. I don't need more proof that he let his love of power and magic take over his life. I don't need to see how many lives he destroyed."

Ashley reached out and patted Belle's free hand. "Hey," she said. "You are stronger than this. It's not like you were helping him do all those things. You were a victim too."

Shaking her head slightly, Belle swallowed hard. "I can't see it like that," she said. "I was there every day. I should have seen it and understood what he was doing, but I didn't. I couldn't see him for who he is or was. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to see it." She let her fork rest on the side of the plate. "I was so convinced that my loving him was going to be enough. And now…I guess it is easier that he's not here. I don't have to worry about myself."

"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret asked quietly.

The woman lifted and lowered her shoulders. "I want to think that I'd be strong when it comes to my husband," she said. "I want to think that I'd figure out a way to stop him or protect the people he's going after. But I'm not that strong. Time and again I fall for his lies when he tells me that he's changed. I believe him because I want it to be true. So if he was here I think I would let myself do it again."

Emma smiled apologetically. "And I haven't been much of a friend with all the pressure I've put on you to remember where he could be hiding."

"That's your job," Belle reminded her. "That's what you're supposed to be doing. You have a town to protect."

It was Emma's turn to shrug. "Well you better hope that I'm good at my job," Emma said with a wry laugh. "Otherwise I won't get paid and you won't get a rent check from me."

The ladies all laughed at that comment, thankful for a moment's levity. The three continued their meal as Emma sipped her coffee and listened to them talk about plans for the day. She was about to slide out of the booth to head to work when her baby brother began to fuss.

"He's got radar," Mary Margaret said. "Give me a minute ladies. Someone needs a diaper change." She motioned for Emma to slide out and hurriedly carried the fussing baby with her to the ladies' room. Emma sat back down and motioned for Ruby to bring her another cup of coffee to go.

Belle looked at Ashley with a smile as Ruby placed the to go cup in front of Emma and then nudged the blonde over with her hip. "So did you ask her yet?" Ruby queried, looking at the other two women.

"No," Ashely said with a laugh. "We didn't really think she'd have this conversation with her mother sitting here."

"So…" Belle said, blushing as she peered over her own cup. "How was last night?"

Emma looked at the three staring back her as though they had all grown another head. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Seriously?"

Ruby waved her hand to shush the other two and lowered her face to stare pointedly at her friend. "Okay, seriously," she said in a stage whisper. "This is a small town and your boyfriend has a room here. Do you think I wouldn't notice that his bed was not slept in last night when I was dropping off the fresh towels this morning?"

Emma sank lower in her seat, cradling the cup in her hand not so much for warmth but for protection. "Ruby," she said warningly.

"And well, I might have seen him leaving your apartment this morning," Ashley said, shooting a look at the restroom to see if Mary Margaret was emerging. "He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday."

"How could you tell?" Belle asked, then shook her head. "He's updated his wardrobe, but it is all pretty similar. Never mind. That's beside the point."

"So?" Ruby asked, drawling out the vowel sound. "Anything to report or share? Life here has been so boring lately. I need details. Hot and dirty details." She flashed a bright smile with her red lips and reached over to tap Emma's shoulder. "I can tell, you know."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm not confirming or denying anything," she said firmly. "And what can you tell?"

"I have my own superpower," Ruby said. "I can tell when someone has…"

"Ewww…" Belle said with a laugh. "I don't think I want to know how that superpower works. But seriously Emma? Should I change the lease to include another tenant?"

Thankfully the diner was crowded that day and the loudness of people talking and eating drowned out some of the intimacy of the conversation. Emma fidgeted in her seat and pulling at the sleeves of her sweater and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I'm not going to dignify this conversation with any response," she said, trying to sound haughty. Her blushing was giving her away.

"I'd say that smile and red face are giving you away," Ruby said as her grandmother called out for her to come back to work. "And I won't stop until I get details."

Ashley laughed at Ruby's intense stare that was making Emma very uncomfortable. "Emma," she said jokingly. "You should take notes from Ruby. It might help you with your interrogations. But for now, you're saved. Your mother is coming back."

Ruby was out of the booth in a single motion and Mary Margaret slid back in with the baby in her arms. "What did I miss?" Emma's mother asked. "Any good gossip?"

***AAA***

Emma rubbed the back of her neck as Belle pulled the items out of the box and rattled off their intended uses. Some she recognized, but many were lost in the translation of the language of a different time and place. Reaching out her hand, she would touch some of them and feel the weight of the metal or wood. Henry touched each one, writing down the name and Belle's explanation for each.

"Want a break?" Belle asked as she placed the last one of the stack in the box. "You look like you could use one." She shot a sympathetic look at Emma.

"Maybe in a few," Emma muttered, glancing at her phone. "I asked Killian to drop by with some take out. We can take a break then."

Belle nodded, looking at the table curiously. "I'll get another one then."

Sliding down from the stool, Emma grabbed the box and carried it to the back. "I've got it," she said. A thin layer of dust had begun to settle on the exposed surfaces of the shop. Each item seemingly waiting on his return from wherever. Grabbing another box from the stacks in the storeroom, Emma walked back out into the shop and held it triumphantly over her head. "I've returned with treasures from the…closet?" This statement elicited a chuckle from Henry and a tight smile from Belle.

The three settled into a rhythm again. Belle noting the name of the item and who it had belonged to before. Henry writing down the details. Emma questioning if it could be a clue or not. They finished two more boxes before Killian arrived.

Emma laughed at his dejected expression as she ducked from his kiss to her cheek to pull the bag of food away from him. "We're hungry here," she explained as Belle and Henry both pushed aside their work and dove for the wrapped contents.

"Starving," Henry agreed, already pulling back the wrapper of the hamburger.

Killian pulled up a stool. "Successful search?" he asked. "Anything?"

Emma shook her head. "No, but we're running out of ideas," she admitted. "How are Dad and Elsa doing?"

"They aren't faring much better," Killian answered, stealing a fry from Emma's stack. That earned him a playful slap to his hand. "Elsa's claiming she needs spectacles after all the reading she's had to do."

"I'd say we're all going to need an antihistamine," Belle said, playfully wrinkling her nose. "The dust is getting insane."

"Do you want me to sweep?" Henry asked between bites.

Belle laughed. "No, I think we're past that now. Besides. You've been working for a few hours. Don't you want to go hang out with your friends or play that video game thing of yours?" She looked to Emma for guidance.

"She's right," Emma said, sliding her food farther away from Killian. "You don't have to work all day with us." Turning to face Killian, she smiled. "Why don't you and Henry head out and do something fun?"

"You'll need to be more specific," Henry said with a laugh. "Killian has a tendency to find trouble for us to get into around here."

"As long as he doesn't have you driving down the main street, I think you'll be fine with him," Emma said. She winked at Killian. "You'll be on your best behavior – both of you."

Killian laughed. "I suppose we could find some form of legal activities to occupy ourselves," he said. "And last I heard, if we do happen to break a law or two the two sheriffs in this town are related to the lad. So I doubt his time behind bars would be too severe."

Henry swallowed another bite and reached for the soda in front of him. "How much time have you served, Killian?" he asked, launching Killian into a discussion of different types of holding cells and ways to escape.

Emma closed her eyes. "At least hold off on the guy talk until you're out of here, okay?"


	19. Chapter 19 - Walking

_**Hello everyone! I'm so honored and moved by the reviews I've been getting. I want to show a more normal side to these characters, as I think there is drama in the every day. Yes, the characters are still dealing with Rumpelstiltskin and Ingrid, but they also have some internal demons. And no, I didn't forget the mirror's messages to Emma. She may be making strides, but she still has to face them. **_

Emma felt the earth shake, but she wasn't sure if it was in her head or not. Throwing a hand out behind her, she grasped Elsa's wrist and pulled the other woman up the slick incline. She knew that they could have easily done it the other way around, but Emma was desperate to see where they had been for all those hours.

"Are you sure you don't want to call David or even Hook?" Elsa asked, catching her breath as they looked down on the rubble that had been the entrance to the cave. "We should have a plan or some…" she faltered for the words.

"Back up," Emma supplied. Grimacing, she picked up a rock from the pile at the top of the hill and held it out in front of her. She dropped it and silently counted how long it took to hit the bottom.

"Well, shouldn't we?" Elsa pressed.

"We should, but I just wanted to see it," Emma explained. "I wanted to know if…"

"I doubt that Ingrid or Rumpelstiltskin are just sitting here waiting to be found," Elsa answered. "And if you are thinking about finding a way into that cave, I have objections to that too." Elsa perfected her queenly stance, placing her hands on her hips and raising her chin.

Emma chuckled. "No, that's not what I'm expecting," she said. "I'm actually curious about the mirror. Whatever spell she has enchanted it with is obviously a strong one. And I doubt that if she is still alive that she would leave it unclaimed."

Nodding, Elsa frowned. "And that sounds like you want to find a way back in there," she said. "Shall I enumerate the reasons that this is a terrible idea?"

Emma turned and looked at her friend, studying her before answering. "No, I was only trying to see if we could look in there. I'm not climbing in there again. I don't really want to see if third time is a charm for me and hypothermia." Looking down at the pile of rubble, Emma searched for anything that seemed out of place. Her eyes scanned and studied the debris. "I don't see anything," she muttered.

Grabbing her arm, Elsa turned Emma to face her. "What did you see in that mirror?" she asked. "Did it say something to you?" The queen's eyes flashed with worry, but her hand stayed firm on Emma's forearm. "It did, didn't it?"

Emma nodded slowly. She had not thought of the mirror's messages in the days since the event. Too much had happened. She didn't want that insecurity in her life, not when she had love and family at her hands. "It is just a stupid mirror."

"If it's just a mirror, you wouldn't be searching so hard for it," Elsa noted. "It must have really hit a nerve." She tugged on Emma's jacket, pulling her back and toward a log where she sat down. "What did it say?"

Emma looked away, her green eyes scanning the cliff and trees that seemed to grow out of what one would think of as barren rocks. "I'm the Savior," she answered. "It told me that everyone only sees me as the Savior. They don't see me as anything but a failsafe, a safety net, and a security blanket. They only call on me when they need me for that." Emma shrugged in response to her own words, trying to pretend that the idea didn't hurt.

"You are more than that," Elsa said, loosening her grip as Emma sank down on the log beside her. "And I haven't been here that long, but your parents, your son, Hook, Belle, Ruby, and many others see you as more than just someone who jumps from one emergency to another. Yes, you do seem to find yourself in situations where you must protect others, but that's not really surprising. Your vocation is that of sheriff."

"I tell myself that too," Emma said. "I tell myself that I'm just doing my job." She reached down and picked up a few loose pebbles, letting them fall through her fingers and then repeating the motion. "And yes, I'm aware that my parents love me and see me as more than the person born to end the curse. And Killian…"

Elsa blushed. "We both know that is not an issue," she said.

"True," Emma answered. "Henry's family connections are so screwed up that I am far from the most screwed up."

"I suppose that is a good thing," Elsa commented. "But it still hurts, doesn't it?"

Swallowing, Emma let the last pebbles fall to the ground. "The mirror told me things that I have thought myself," she admitted. "You know those things you think when you're alone and down? It repeated those things to me." She kicked the newly dropped pile of pebbles with the toe of her brown leather boot. "And yes, that's something that hurts. My head knows that it is full of crap, but my heart…"

"Was there more?" Elsa asked hesitantly.

Emma sighed loudly, pushing her hair over her shoulders. "My parents are Snow White and Prince Charming," she said with the little laugh she always used when she thought about the ridiculous way that sounded. "I'm referred to as the product of true love." The wind rustled the pine needles as Elsa nodded to affirm Emma's statements. Wrapping her arms around her middle, Emma looked up toward the canopy of the trees and blinked a few times. "Supposedly that is why I have magic and why I'm the Savior."

"Being the product of true love is a burden to you?" Elsa asked.

"Not exactly," Emma said slowly. "It is more of an obligation. And sometimes I don't feel like I can live up to it. I'm the product of true love who is scared of commitment. I was more of the one night stand kind of person, so my idea for commitment meant staying until the sun came up. Even Henry's father and I were only together a few weeks before that relationship ended. I am trying, really I am. But I don't have a great track record at all. So it is hard to live up to the idea that my parents are pretty much the textbook example."

Elsa reached back out and took Emma's hand in her own. "I'm not really an expert on this," she said. "I'm better at battle plans and coming up with special events. But I'm willing to listen if you need to talk."

Emma looked at her and smiled. "I'm really okay," she said. "I told him I love I him. And my magic didn't go nuts. The world didn't end. And he didn't bolt from the room."

"All good signs," Elsa said with a smile of her own.

"So maybe the product of true love isn't so screwed up?"

"Maybe not," Elsa said. "Maybe she just needs time."

Emma looked back up at the canopy of trees. "Maybe…" She sighed again. "Okay…time for a change of subject."

"Gladly," Elsa said, smiling more freely. "What shall we discuss? The weather?"

"How are things at my parents?"

"Your parents have been wonderful to me," Elsa said. "They are postponing their renovations for the baby's room until I find a new place or am able to find Anna and return to Arendelle."

Emma waved away what appeared to be an invisible gnat. "Are you considering your own place?" she asked. Elsa had never mentioned such a plan before, but she could understand it. The queen had hoped to be in Storybrooke only temporarily, but the search was still lingering and no portals were available for travel.

"I don't want to be a burden on your parents," Elsa said, fingering the edges of her gown. "They have been quite accommodating, but they have a baby and their own lives. I don't need to be in their way."

"What if you moved in with me and Henry?" Emma asked. "I have an extra room and you're welcome to use it until we figure out how to get both you and Anna back home."

"Are you sure?" Elsa asked. "I would think you'd like your privacy. I know that one of the reasons you wanted your own place was to…spend more time with Hook without interruptions."

Emma blushed. "He stayed over last night and well…I'm considering…"

"Asking him to stay over again?"

"Maybe," she answered, her eyes squinting and lips pursing. "I thought he might want to move in too, but I haven't asked him. I don't quite know how to ask him."

Elsa nodded thoughtfully. "It isn't something I have any experience with," she said. "But you asked him on a date. And you just asked me to move in. I think you can do it."

Emma laughed. "I'm sure I can get the words out," she said. "It's his answer that scares me. If he says no, I'm going to feel rejected. If he says yes, I'm going to be scared."

***AAA***

The wood floor was cold on her bare feet, but she felt none of the sting as she padded out of the bedroom and past the kitchen toward the door. Her hands fumbled at the locks, clicking metal and sliding it against the wood. Only the light of the moon illuminated the space and a cold blast of air blew against her bare legs as she swung it open and stepped out onto the stoop.

"Emma?" a voice called to her through the haze of her sleep. "Swan?"

She gingerly lowered herself down the stairs, her heels up in the air as though she were wearing invisible shoes. Her tousled hair blew backwards, curls going askew in the wind. She did not turn her green eyes toward the apartment. Unfocused they led her across the sidewalk.

"Emma!" Killian called out, catching her arm as she started to cross the street. "Darling, are you alright?"

She blinked, the wind chilling her with only the thin, oversized shirt she wore to sleep in to protect her. "What?" she managed to say. "What are you…?"

Only clad in a pair of sleep pants himself, he pulled her close to him. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, pulling his head back in an attempt to study her face. "Are you alright?"

"I…I don't know?" she stammered. "I was asleep next to you and then…"

"Sleepwalking?" he asked.

She shivered against him, nestling a bit more into his embrace. "I don't know," she repeated.

"Let's get you back inside," he said, turning her in his arms to head back to the stairs up to the landing. "It's too cold out here."

He shut door behind them, flipping the lock casually. With a curious eye, he watched her walk delicately back to the couch and sit down. "Why would I do that?" she asked, folding her legs up under her. "I've never had that issue before now."

He collapsed next to her and with one arm over her shoulder, he pulled her down so that she was resting her head on his shoulder. "You're under a lot of stress," he suggested. "Work, the Snow Queen, Henry's problems at school."

"Good thing my boyfriend watches Dr. Phil," she said with a laugh. "You're diagnosing me now?"

Dimples flashing, he rested his chin on her head. "You asked for one," he reminded her. "I was only fulfilling your wish."

"You do that a lot," she said, pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over them. "I appreciate it. I do, but I wish that…" She chuckled at her choice of words. "I want to do that for you. I want to make you happy too."

"You make me immensely happy by just being you," he said, dropping a kiss onto her temple. "Isn't that the same thing?"

She pulled herself up to sitting, placing a hand on his stubbled cheek. "You know what I mean," she answered. "Tell me what you want. Tell me something that I can make happen or give you that will make you happy."

"Emma…" he said warily. "I don't know what…"

"There must be something," she said.

He shook his head. "Right now I want to go back to bed," he laughed. "I want to wake up next to you in the morning."

"That's a given," she said. "And probably something we should make a little more permanent I guess."

He smiled, his right foot kicking her lightly. "More permanent?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. "That might make me happy. But shouldn't I ask you?"

She rolled her eyes and punched his chest playfully. "I love you, you fool," she said. "But I don't mean that. I meant maybe you should move in here. It is silly for you to be paying to live at Granny's when you're here. And there is enough room. And…"

"You want a roommate?" he teased. "I suppose I could move my stuff into the office."

She giggled, punching him again. "Elsa is moving in there when we get the bed later today," she protested. "So I thought you might find my bed more comfortable. And we could negotiate something on the rent. Remember though, you have trash duty every other week, the toilet seat must be down, and we'll take turns with making dinner."

Brushing her lips against his, she gasped as he deepened it and pulled her back toward him. The two sat that way for minutes, exploring and feeling nothing other than the happiness and wonder at being together. When her lungs burned for oxygen, she pulled back and smiled brightly at him without the guard of her fear to protect her. "Sound like a deal?"

He chuckled. "You drive a hard bargain, Swan," he said. "But it is an offer I can't refuse."

_**So what or who is making Emma sleepwalk? Any guesses? **_

_**And good grief. I had Emma move out to get away from the crowded conditions only to have her with multiple people in her apartment. Why am I envisioning a Three's Company scenario with Emma, Elsa, and Hook?**_


	20. Chapter 20 - Roommates

_**So this chapter is a little fluff. I couldn't help it. I needed to laugh.**_

Killian poured cereal into the bowl and listened attentively as Henry described which color was supposed to represent which flavor. With a half amused and half disgusted expression, he picked up the pieces of cereal one by one and popped them into his mouth to taste.

"Good, right?" Henry asked, stuffing another comic book into his backpack. "I mean it is seriously good."

"It's a bit sweet, lad," Killian said, swallowing the colorful breakfast food. "And hard to chew."

Henry nodded vigorously. "Like candy," he said. "My moms don't like me to eat sweet stuff, but this is cereal so that means it is for breakfast. Plus it's fruit flavored. That means it's healthy."

Emma padded into the room and took the bowl from in front of Killian. "Henry, no scaring Killian," she scolded mockingly. "Especially this early in the morning. Now pour your milk over this toxic waste and eat. The bus will be here in 20 minutes."

"You let him eat that?" Killian asked, perching himself on the barstool next to Henry. "It is disgusting."

She shrugged as she rooted around in the refrigerator, coming back with eggs and cheese. "He's a kid," she said defensively. "And if the worst vice he has is a little cereal then so be it. He doesn't start or end his day with a flask of rum."

"Ouch," Henry said, pouring the milk over his cereal. "What happened? Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Emma slammed a pan down on the stove a little louder than she intended. "Eat," she commanded. "And Killian…don't touch the cereal. It will probably kill you. You've lived 300 years without maltofibowhatever in your system or Red Dye number 9. Don't start now."

"Eggs have cholesterol," Henry said between bites. "Don't you worry about that too?"

Pursing her lips together, she rolled her eyes. "Henry," she said warningly. "You have five minutes to finish that and then go brush your teeth. I am done with this conversation."

Killian chuckled as the boy ducked his chin and shoveled the sugary breakfast food into his mouth. Hair falling into his eyes and a sheepish expression on his face, he looked much like Baelfire had appeared at the same age. "I believe your mother is not a morning person," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "She appears a bit…"

Turning on her heel, Emma held the spatula in one hand and placed the other on her hip. "I don't suggest that you finish that sentence, pirate," she said, shaking the spatula in his direction. "You moving in here was not a ploy to get you and Henry to gang up on me."

Killian ducked his head too, looking sideways at Henry. "You're moving in?" Henry asked, taking a breath from shoveling in the food. "Since when?"

Emma drew a ragged breath and began tracing a line on the floor with her toe. "I sort of asked him last night," she said, nose and eyes crinkling as she awaited his answer. "I should have asked you about it first. Sorry."

"Where's he going to sleep?" he asked. "Elsa's got a bed in the office. So…Ohhhhh…I get it."

Emma closed her eyes. "Are you okay with this?" she asked, turning her back to him to busy herself with the eggs.

Henry took his last bite of cereal and lifted the bowl to his lips. When his mother said nothing about his manners, he lowered it without drinking the remaining milk. "Yeah," he said slowly. "It's cool. I like Killian and that means he can help with chores and stuff, right?"

"Garbage detail has already been discussed," Killian answered.

"And with you living here that means you and I can out vote Mom to watch scary movies or sports stuff because I already convinced Elsa that she should vote with me too," Henry said thoughtfully. "Mom likes watching those dramas where everyone cries or there is a lot of kissing going on. I like to watch…"

"You won't be watching anything if you don't get your butt in gear," Emma told him. "Bus…school…any of this ring a bell?"

"Fine," Henry said. "I think having Killian here will be cool. But don't be too hard on him."

"Hard on him?" Emma said, turning her attention back to the stove. "When am I…"

"You're on your own with that one, Killian," Henry said, taking his dish to the sink and running in the direction of the bathroom. "Good luck." A laugh floated out as he closed the door.

"Want some help, love?" Killian asked, gauging her reaction from across the tiled kitchen island "I could…"

She laughed. "Worried that I'm pissed?" she asked, folding the omelet with the spatula.

"No," he said. "I just get a bit concerned when you talk that way. Using your mother tone with the lad."

"I'm still a bit new at that," she said, watching the egg mixture firm in the pan. "I haven't always had a mom-voice."

"You seem to be perfecting it," he complimented, coming around the counter and kissing her cheek. "Though I prefer it be used on the boy and not me. You're demanding enough without threatening me with punishments fit for him."

She laughed, sliding the first omelet onto the plate he held out to her. "There is so much wrong with that idea that I don't even know where to start," she told him. "And I think that went okay with Henry. I guess we just have to tell my parents next." She busied herself with making another as Killian poured them each a cup of coffee and pulled out the needed forks. Finally she slid the second one onto his waiting plate.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Readying her second bite, she saw her son slink back into the room and grab his backpack. "Got everything?" she asked.

"Homework, permission slip, and library book," he said, patting the bag. "I was going to…"

"Going to what?" she asked, eyeing the clock over the sink. "You have like 30 seconds before you need to be outside.

"I'm going to be late this afternoon," he muttered, a red blush climbing up his neck and across his face. "I was going to…"

She shook her head, wondering what had him so flustered. "Is it illegal?"

"No," he stammered.

"Is it immoral?"

"No."

"Fine," she said. "As long as it isn't illegal, immoral or dangerous, you can do whatever it is. Just be home for dinner. Your grandparents are stopping by tonight."

A smile broke out on his face as he launched himself against her for a hug. "Thanks!" he yelled, practically skipping out the door. "I'll be on time."

She took another bite of the omelet and then a sip of her coffee as Killian eyed her with great amusement. "What?" she asked him. "What is that look for?"

"You didn't grill him for details," he said with a smile. "Perhaps you're losing your touch as a great interrogator."

A laugh rang out as she took another sip from her mug. "I trust him," she said, contorting her face into one of angelic innocence. "I do. If he wants to be mysterious, I'm fine with that."

"You're fine with not knowing where he is or what he's indulging in for the three hours from dismissal until he's expected here for dinner?" Killian asked her. "What have you done with the real Emma Swan?"

She smiled brightly. "I have GPS installed on his phone," she announced triumphantly. "If I want, I can track his little butt wherever he goes."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret flipped the switch on the old fashioned oven, turning on the light to check the progress of their dinner. Finding it satisfactory, she flipped it again and crossed the small space to her daughter's side. "So things are looking nice here," she said. "I like the paint and the couch appears comfortable." She pointed her chin toward the green furniture where Killian and David were both discussing something in earnest, though their voices had yet to carry enough for either woman to hear them. "And the bedrooms are spacious. I noticed Henry's got room for his desk and a bed in there, plus his dresser and shelves of his stuff."

"It's great," Emma said with a sigh, waiting on her mother to quit babbling. "Thank you again for loaning me the extra bed. Elsa is going to move into the office/guest room until we finish figuring out what's up with the Snow Queen."

"So you'll have a roommate," Mary Margaret said with a sly smile, her fingers chasing a grape tomato that threatened to roll away from her knife. "That will be nice for the nights when Henry is at Regina's."

Emma rolled her eyes, leaving her station at the counter to stir a pot of pasta on the stove. "Elsa needed a place to stay and she feels more comfortable around me."

"I can see that," her mother answered. "And you? Are you comfortable?"

"With what?" Emma asked.

"Well, it has been a while since you've lived on your own," Mary Margaret said thoughtfully. "And you bought a large enough bed…"

Taking a play out of her father's book, Emma smiled brightly at her mother. "But mom, I'm not interested in sleeping with Elsa," she said.

Elsa, who had been peeling carrots at the other end of the island, giggled. "The feeling is mutual," she said to Emma with a sardonic grin on her face.

Mary Margaret dropped the knife to the cutting board with a loud thump and placed her hands on her hips. "Emma!" she admonished in a motherly agitation, before lowering her voice. "I was going to let you tell us in your own time. I was hoping you'd tell me first before your father so I could help soften the blow a little bit."

"What?" Emma asked, feigning innocence. "You guys want me to sleep with Elsa."

"Really, Mary Margaret," Elsa said with her own brand of royal indignation. "I don't think I'm Emma's type at all. She prefers brunettes with more facial hair than I am capable of having."

That sent both blonde girls into a fit of giggles that had Killian and David both staring questioningly into the kitchen. "Everything alright in there?" David called out, unsure what had his daughter laughing so hard over dinner. "Need any help."

Mary Margaret looked back and forth between both women, her eyes narrowing as she formed her next words. "Oh honey, everything is fine," she said in her sweetest voice. "I was just asking Emma why there are two toothbrushes in her bathroom, Killian's shoes by the bed, and his clothes in the closet. I'm sure you're curious to know too."

_**I realize that I've written both Snow and Charming as very supportive and happy for Emma and Killian. I just know from experience that even as an adult it is hard to tell your parents that you're living with a guy.**_


	21. Chapter 21 - Routine

_**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing, but I promise to put them back where they belong. **_

_**I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story. I've been having fun writing it.**_

Elsa found her sitting in her car, holding a pair of mismatched shoes from Henry's closet. Emma offered no explanations for the strange occurrence and Elsa tried to pretend that it was normal and happened all the time. The two women headed back into the apartment with Emma trying not to wake Killian as she slipped back into bed. Worried, Elsa stationed herself on the couch, hoping to wake herself up if Emma tried to leave again. But by the next morning she was making excuses of insomnia to Killian and Henry while Emma shot her apologetic looks over the breakfast table.

"How many times has it happened? Elsa asked her when Killian went for his shower and Henry had left for school. "I know last night was not the first time. Not after the way you reacted."

Emma tapped her fingers on the wood of the table, studying the knots and the flaws in its surface. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Killian has found me twice. You've found me once."

"So three times?" Elsa said. "Do you know what's causing it?"

"Maybe three or I don't know. Maybe more," Emma said quietly. "The other morning I woke up and things were out of place."

"What do you mean?" Elsa said, leaning her chin on her palm.

"I woke up and all the drawers and doors in our bedroom were open. Everything had been moved around."

Elsa nodded thoughtfully. "Okay so you're walking in your sleep," she said. "That's strange, but it isn't necessarily some evil force. And you seem to be moving items when you do it."

"Maybe it is my subconscious trying to tell me to clean this place up," Emma said with a short laugh. "Maybe I'm getting to old to live like we're all in college."

Emma was getting used to the fact that nobody in the apartment or much of the town got her jokes. It was disheartening, but she was becoming used to the confused expressions and questions that completely ruined her punch lines. "Never mind," she said.

"Have you seen a medical person…a doctor?" Elsa asked helpfully. "Maybe he could…"

"I'm not going to a doctor over sleepwalking." Emma sat there like a defiant child, arms crossed and chin pointed upwards. "It's just stress. Think of my life for a moment."

Nodding slightly, Elsa got up and walked to the kitchen to fill the coffee maker with water for a second round . She was getting the hang of such things. Unlike Killian, she did not argue or fuss over the names of appliances. She did not try to devalue them with her comments about how they worked or how they made people in this realm seem pompous or useless.

"We could put some kind of alarm on the door," Emma suggested when Elsa returned to the table. "They have ones that will beep or sound when the door is opened. That could be helpful."

***AAA***

David was laughing heartily at some tale that Leroy was spinning, patting the older man on the shoulder and cackling wildly. Emma tried to ignore it. She was tired, which meant everything was getting on her nerves. From the sound of Henry's gum that morning to the way Elsa hummed when she was wiping down the counters behind Killian because he didn't do a good enough job, everything was too loud and annoying.

Grabbing the file that she had been reading, she yanked open the drawer to the cabinet, stuffed it in, and then slammed the drawer shut. That stopped her father's laughter for less than second before both men's chuckles bubbled up again and echoed through the station and her head.

"I'm going out," she grumbled. She wasn't sure they heard her or even if she cared. From the time on the clock, she knew it was only a matter of minutes before her mother got there. They had all settled into a routine that Emma both appreciated and dreaded. Her mother had taken to her job as the city's new mayor, hiring Elsa to help her around the office and with some of the tasks that would have normally taken her away from the office. She visited her husband each day at lunch and usually invited Emma to join them for a quick bite at Granny's or back at the loft.

Emma usually declined and spent the time with Elsa or with Killian, who had begun working to help restore one of the ships that had been used for fishing for the past few years. One of them would pick up take out or leftovers from the night before and carry it down to the docks. Each time he ran an errand in town for some tool or item that he needed, he would pick her up a treat and leave it on her desk if she wasn't there to greet him.

Even her home life was becoming somewhat routine. Elsa spent most of her time reading whatever book that Belle had recommended and asking Henry for advice on everything from appliances to video games. She had found that she enjoyed the electronic toys and adventures that Henry had been a fan of for so long. The two would play tournaments against each other, keeping score on a dry erase board that Elsa found unused at the Sheriff's Station. Killian had been invited to join them, but he complained that the games were realistic enough and that there were no good ways to gain an advantage (cheat). So that meant he was usually there with Emma in the kitchen for a cooking lesson or showing off his latest find from the hardware store. Emma tried to tell him on more than one occasion that he did not have to buy everything that fascinated him, but he was constantly doing just that. She had grown used to his excited voice calling to her from the door, "Swan, come look at this!"

She wasn't complaining. Her life had had routine before now. She could do predictable. And there were still surprises for her. The morning after she had fallen asleep two minutes after dinner, Killian and Elsa had cleaned up (the thought still made her laugh that Captain Hook and Queen Elsa had loaded the dishwasher) and Killian had both carried her to the bedroom and unplugged the alarm clock before calling her father to say that she was going to be late the next day.

"What time is it?" she grumbled, looking over where the alarm clock sat on her night stand to see its blank face staring back at her. "Killian? What happened to the clock?"

"I pulled it from the wall so it would not make that infernal sound," Killian answered from the doorway.

"Shit!" Emma said, looking at her phone next to the bed. "I'm late. How could I have slept this late?" She threw back the covers and groped for her robe on the chair next to the bed.

"Not to worry, love," Killian said with a smile. "I've already called your father and you are going in late today. I've…"

"You what?" she asked, forehead creasing in confusion. "Why?"

"My love, you needed your sleep and I wanted to see that you got it," he said, approaching the bed with a tray that included eggs, bacon, and pancakes, as well as her favorite hot chocolate and cinnamon. "Now get back in bed like a good girl and have your breakfast."

Her mouth gaped, but the scent of the chocolate and pancakes were too tempting. "You cooked?" she asked, trying not to think of the condition of the kitchen. He was an orderly man in all areas of his life. Each shirt hung at the same angle and direction. His drawers were meticulously organized. Even the shelf with the few books he had accumulated were ordered with more accuracy than Belle's system at the library. But whenever he tried something new on his own there was a debris field left in his wake.

He looked a bit sheepish as he and the tray joined her on the bed. "I procured it from Granny's," he admitted. "I didn't want you to see the mess I would make if I tried to make all this."

She kissed his cheek, crossing her legs under her and clapping her hands in anticipation. "I love Granny's pancakes," she told him. "You didn't get yourself any?"

"Your son and I already ate this morning while Elsa was getting ready," he told her. "This is for you."

Her mouth watered at the sight of the plate and she took a bite of each before gulping at the hot chocolate. Smiling, she assured him that it was in fact good and even offered him a slice of bacon as a reward. "Good?" she asked.

He nodded as he chewed. "I'm sorry about the clock," he said sheepishly. "I just didn't desire it to awaken you at too early of an hour. I didn't propose to break it."

She laughed lightly, placing her head on his shoulder. "You didn't," she assured him, taking a long sip of her drink. "You just unplugged it." When he still looked unconvinced. "You took the electricity away from it. When we plug it back in, you'll see that it works just fine."

She giggled when she saw the realization cross his face, like a child getting a tough answer correct on a spelling test. It was such an adorable side to him that she couldn't help but store it away as a memory and wonder what she could do to make it happen again. When she kissed him a moment later, she almost forgot the late hour, the food, and the fact that she was spinning her wheels on her investigation. Pulling away, she laughed even more when he licked his lips in a most obscene and adorable way. "I think I could grow to like that chocolate drink of yours," he muttered.

She was about to pull him back when the phone chirped to life. Rolling her eyes, she reached for it and practically groaned at seeing her father's picture on the screen. "Hi Dad," she answered, holding out her fork with her other hand to offer Killian a bit of the pancakes, which he accepted. "What's going on?" Her internal monologue began chanting for it to have something to do with dinner at her parents' or Regina wanting another evening with Henry that week.

"Belle's here," David's voice said emotionlessly across the phone. "She's seen Rumpelstiltskin."

_**What? Where's he been? Where am I going? I don't know. See you all soon. **_


	22. Chapter 22 - Encourage

_**A/N: I'm sorry if my interpretation of Belle is a bit off from the show. I just can't write her the way that the show does right now. I want her to be stronger, smarter, and have more gumption. So I just had to make her my own a little. **_

_**I don't know where Elsa is in this chapter. I finished it and realized I didn't include her – sorry. But in my defense I just spent about $50 on Elsa snow hats that have a blonde braid hanging from them for my daughter and my nieces. They are too cute. **_

Belle's delicate fingers toyed with the stapler on David's desk, running a nail up and down it before slamming her palm against it to make it give up a folded metal sliver. She repeated the action about six times before David gently moved it away from her. "Emma's on her way," he said. "She was sleeping in this morning."

Belle nodded her head, folding her hands back in her lap and sighing. She did not want to say a word, too afraid that once she began she would not stop. And that would mean repeating the whole thing for Emma. So she chewed on her lip and waited for the Savior to arrive.

There was something clumsy about the way that Emma ran into the room, her hair damp from the shower and her jacket half on and half off as she shed it. She looked sympathetically at Belle when she yanked over a wooden chair, spun it around and straddled it. "Okay," she said a bit breathlessly. "Start at the beginning."

Belle's face was still showing the signs of tears, but no fresh ones had fallen as she explained that she had opened the library that morning as usual. Nothing had seemed out of place at all, but then she had heard a strange rumbling from below her feet. That's when she noticed that the elevator, the one that nobody used and few people had even seen was indicating it was stuck between floors.

"So did you see him?" David prodded, a pen in his hand idle after taking notes. "Did you talk with him?"

Belle blanched for a moment and then threw her shoulders back. "I pried open the doors to look down," she explained. "I saw the top of his head. He was trying to make the elevator work."

"So he could be gone," Emma suggested.

"He is," David confirmed. "I already checked before I even called you. I just wanted to know what she saw and how…"

Belle swallowed hard, hands beginning to tremble. "I tried to stop him," she said softly. "I threw the circuit breaker to turn off the power. I thought that might slow him down. He didn't even look at me. I called his name twice, but he didn't even look at me." Wincing at David's stare, she faced Emma who at least looked a bit more sympathetic.

"So he's in town and let himself be seen," Emma said, drumming her fingers on the back of the chair. "That's probably not a good thing."

David pulled the pen he was holding to his mouth and chewed on the end of it. "We don't know though," he said gently. "It could have been a trick or Belle could have been wrong about…"

"I know what I saw," Belle said defiantly. "He was there and wanted something from the basement."

Emma closed her eyes momentarily, a cold chill overtaking her. "Maleficent," she said softly. "She was down there in dragon form before. I had to battle her and get back the ingredients…It doesn't matter. She was defeated. So what else is down there?"

Looking at his daughter, David dropped the pen to the desk and groaned. "I hope you're not suggesting that I dust off my sword and go down there."

Emma shot another sympathetic look at Belle. "Maybe Regina knows something. You could check with her and see if she hid anything down there or if she knows that Gold did."

David agreed and grabbed his jacket after two failed calls to the former mayor. "I'll be back in a bit," he muttered.

As the door closed behind him, Belle finally let the tears brimming in her eyes begin to fall. "I'm so sorry, Emma," she said weakly. "I wasn't thinking. I should have…well, I don't know what I should have done, but I should have made sure he was not going any place."

Emma stood up from the chair, pulled Belle up and hugged her solidly. She almost laughed in realization that she had done such a thing, as she for so much of her life avoided such contact. "You're just being human," Emma commented, patting her back gently. "You wanted to believe there to be some reason he's been hiding. I get that. We all want to believe the best in people."

Her tears were dampening the shoulder of Emma's shirt. "I thought there was good in him," she said softly. "I thought I could reach that. I thought he wanted me to reach it."

"Maybe there is," Emma said just as softly. "Maybe is buried very deep and he doesn't know how to let it out. But whatever the reason, it isn't your fault, Belle. You're not responsible for his goodness or evil. You're not responsible for whether or not he gives up his magic or learns to live with it. And you're not responsible for how he deals with that dagger."

The sobs emanating from Belle grew louder. "But I see it with other people," she said, voice cracking. "Regina is changing. Even Hook is changing, as hard as that is for me to admit. How can they change, but Rumple can't? If you ask them, they will tell you they are changing for love."

Emma pulled back, her face worried and frustrated. "I don't think it is that simple," she admitted. "I know what you're saying. Killian does say that he has changed for me, but I don't know that it is completely accurate. He…he wasn't always bent on revenge. I wish I had known him before all…before he became a villain. He filled his heart, his soul, and his mind with that desire to extract revenge. Every decision. Every choice. It was all about that. But he let go of the revenge."

"For you…" Belle said.

"He'd have you believe that," Emma said. "And if you ever tell him that I am saying this, I will deny it. But behind all that revenge was a man who wanted to be loved and respected. When his brother died, he gave in to the fear that nobody would respect him and became a pirate. When Milah died, the idea that respect came from fear that he instilled in others was not enough either. So when I met him, he was desperate for that closure. He wanted that revenge on Rumple so much that he shoved away anything else."

"If not you, then what made him change?"

"He was searching for a way to belong," Emma explained. "He tried to find a way to be a part of things, to find that respect and love that had been gone for hundreds of years. He failed at it for a while. He tried the fear tactics, making us all scared of his words and weapons. But he began to do good things too, which he promptly brushed off as good form or as some effort to win my heart." She smiled slightly.

"Like turning his ship around and bringing back the bean?"

"Yes," Emma said. "He tells me that he did it because my voice stuck in his head. But have you ever seen him when David pats him on the back or tells him that he did a good job? Even my mother can make that man blush with a smile or an invitation. He'd deny it all day, but he shows off for Henry to make my son like him more. And he even does it with you. He is horrible at apologizing, but he's actually said the words to you."

"So he changed so he could belong?" Belle asked, eyes wide at the idea.

"That's not the only reason," she said. "But it is part of it. No matter how old we are, we all have that part of us that wants approval from people. We crave it. Even Regina craves it. She wants people to respect and love her. She wants them to see the good in her and ignore everything else. And just like Killian. Just like me. She wants people to accept her and not judge her for things that happened in the past."

"Do you think that is what Rumple wants too?" Belle asked, using the palms of her hands to wipe her tears. "Could it be that simple?"

Emma shrugged. "We'd need analysis from Archie to figure this all out, but I think that is part of it. You've seen it. You've seen how he can help people when he wants to so. You've seen how protective he is over you. There is something still in there. And I don't know if the hunger for power and more magic is too much for him to overcome or not. But I can't…"

Belle shook her head, backing up from Emma. "Don't say that. I can't trust him. Not now."

"I don't think you should," Emma agreed. "I'm just saying that sometimes that inner voice or that turmoil inside us is real villain. And as much as you want to do so, you can't be his sole reason for shutting that voice down. It isn't about you being strong enough or good enough. It's about him and him wanting to be good because that's the right thing to be. It isn't your fault when he fails. Just like you can't take the credit when he succeeds."

***AAA***

Killian was on the floor next to the fireplace, his hand leafing through the pages of a book that Elsa had suggested he read. Brow furrowed and teeth chewing his bottom lip, he read from the pages.

"Did you ever stab anyone?" Henry asked from his spot on the couch. "I mean besides my grandfather?"

As if by reflex, Killian raised a lone eyebrow and peered over at the boy, who he thought was reading his own book. "What?" he asked, though he had certainly heard the question.

"Stab anyone?" Henry repeated. "Like when you were being a pirate."

Killian slowly closed the book he was reading, folding down the page he was on to mark his spot. "Aye," he responded slowly. "I have, but it isn't a thing I'm likely to do now unless the situation were to warrant it."

"What did it feel like?" Henry asked, not lifting his eyes from the book in his own hands. "I mean was it hard or did you not really think that much about it?"

Killian eyed him carefully, trying to ascertain where the conversation was going. "You don't get much of an opportunity for deep contemplation during a battle," he said. "So I cannot say that I've ever really pondered the thought. Why are you asking?"

Henry lifted the book he was reading up, an old fashioned drawing of pirates on the cover. "Treasure Island," he said with that tone he used with his mother sometimes. "Required reading for school. I thought you might be good to ask about some of this stuff."

"I see," Killian said with a smirk. "I doubt your mother would approve of you getting pirate lessons from me."

Henry laughed, turning the page and frowning. "I doubt she would," he agreed. "She seems to think I need to learn more from her parents. But I think I should learn more than that. You know…some of this stuff," he said lifting the book again, "could come in handy. I mean if I was ever in a situation where I had to do this."

"Aye," Killian said with a short laugh. "There are benefits to it. But your grandfather has taught you about sword fighting, has he not?"

"A little," Henry conceded. "He's busy now with work and the baby and helping my grandmother be mayor." The young boy shrugged. "Maybe you could teach me."

Killian considered that for a moment. "I should like that, but your grandfather might not appreciate my inclusion," he answered. "He's already a bit angry at me for not telling him that I was living here. Besides, I believe he wants you to learn the skills of a gentleman, not a scoundrel."

Sighing, Emma's son frowned at the book. "I think I need to be able to do both," he said. "Unless you don't think you're good enough at it to teach me." Henry's eyes flashed mischievously, knowing that a challenge was just the way to persuade a 300 year old pirate into doing what he wanted.

"You negotiate like your mother," Killian muttered. "I will tell you what. You ask your mother for permission and I will provide you with some instruction."

The locks on the door whined as Emma entered the apartment, her face flushed and her arms full. "Some help?" she asked Henry, kicking her boot at his shoed feet still on the couch. "I thought we talked about the shoes on the furniture, kid."

"Sorry," he said, throwing down the book and grabbing a few of the bags from his mother as Killian grabbed the rest and looped them over his hook. "We were just talking about stabbing people."

Emma looked at her son with an amused smile as she began emptying the contents of the bags on the counter. "Do I want to know?" she asked vaguely. "Never mind. I guess I should ask was this conversation hypothetical or are you assembling a list."

"Just thinking that maybe Killian could help teach me since Grandpa is so busy," Henry said, winking over at Killian when his mother's back was turned. "I really want to learn."

"I thought…"

"Please, Mom," Henry said, resorting to that voice he used when he wanted something. "I'll be careful."

"If Killian has time and wants to…" she said, turning to the man in question. "You think my father would be okay with that?"

"He may have some reservations," Killian admitted, chuckling as Henry rushed away already certain of his victory. "But I might feel safer having a sword in my hand should he decide to come after me. I don't think he's quite forgiven me yet."

She laughed. "He likes you," she reminded him. "He's even threatened me if I hurt you."

"Aye," Killian said. "But that was before he started looking at me as the man bedding his daughter. I believe your father and mother's interpretation of our relationship was a bit more chaste than they now assume it to be."

Gingerly, she pecked him on the cheek and patted his chest comfortingly. "Poor pirate," she said. "My father really has you scared, doesn't he? But I have to admit, that glare he sent toward you when he looked at our bed was kind of intimidating."

"I don't believe he wanted to picture what goes on in that bed," Killian said huskily. "And I think that you quite enjoyed getting to be protected by both me and your father."

"Someone has to protect me from my mother," Emma said with a laugh as she dumped out the contents of another bag. "She totally threw us under the bus there." Emma paused to rethink her words. "She threw us in the ocean with no life raft?" Killian chuckled at her attempt to make the phrase relevant.

Walking over to where she was standing, Killian bumped her hip with his own as he reached for the bag of cookies she had bought. "I thought you said no more sweets in the house," he said accusingly. "I'm not complaining, but I seem to remember a lecture from you about how you weren't going to eat anything that wasn't healthy."

"I'm weak," she said with a shrug, pulling the bag from his hand. "You are in love with a weak woman who can't resist chocolate chips."

_**Thanks for bearing with me. We're about to get to the Rumple showdown. I just couldn't leave Belle feeling sad. She needed a pep talk too. But this is an Emma story with lots of Captain Swan fluff so I had to put more of them in too. **_


	23. Chapter 23 - Complications

_**I'm glad that I'm making so many of your laugh and enjoy some normalcy within Storybrooke. But not every chapter can be like that. **_

Emma paced the short length of the living room and back again, her hands playing with the hem of her sweater and with her long blonde hair. Short breaths came out in spurts as she tried to calm herself down, nervous energy fueling her steps. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture herself some place normal and quiet. She wanted that. She wanted normalcy. She wanted serenity. She wanted this fight to be over.

Her fingers left her hair and began to trail along the mantle of the fireplace, ghosting over the trinkets and photo frames that cluttered the freshly painted surface. If she had any humor left, she would have laughed that her once anonymous and generic life was now littered with friends, family and love that made its way into permanent reminders in the form of photographs. There was Henry's school portrait where he smiled mischievously into the camera. A photograph of her with her parents and baby brother, all smiling as Leroy had fumbled to take to the photo. A shot of her with Elsa at her parents sat next to the family shot, the two of them with their heads together and laughing over some funny incident she couldn't remember. A larger frame held a photo of her and Killian in a booth at Granny's. She remembered that day because she had invited him to join all of them, scooting over in the booth so that he sat next to her instead of across. She looked straight into the camera, laughing as her son had instructed Killian to do the same. But his stubbornness had shone through and he was looking at her instead. And finally a shot of Killian, David and Henry at the docks, all three laughing with arms around each other.

"Love, are you okay?" Killian asked, his voice concerned as he emerged from the windy day outside. "You're not at work."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, startled by the intrusion. "I'm fine," she stammered, dropping her hands to her sides. "I just needed some time to think."

He stood in the opening to the living room, uncertain if he should approach. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked. "Might be hard to think with me disturbing you."

"No," she said a bit too fast. "You probably should know…Oh hell…I don't know."

He accepted that as an invitation and took the four steps to meet her part way, winding his handless arm around her waist to pull her to him. "Darling, you seem irritated," he said, smoothing back her hair with his hand. "Are you sure, you're alright?"

Her breath caught in her throat, eliciting a small hiccup in the process. "I don't know," she told him, burrowing her face into his neck. "I saw him…"

If he was confused by her pronoun, he didn't show it. "Who, darling?" he asked. "Whom did you see today?"

Forcing herself to swallow, she gripped the collar of his jacket and held on tightly, crushing the leather beneath her fingers. "Rumpelstiltskin," she said in a low voice. "I guess I was hoping that it was just Belle's imagination. I didn't want him to really be back."

Killian's own breath caught at the sound of the man's name, his eyes clenching shut. "Love, tell me what happened," he said shakily.

"There was something missing from Granny's," Emma began, "a silver tea service that she had received as a gift from Ruby. She uses it when someone orders room service." Emma bit her lip for a moment, the fear that she had been swallowing churning up again. "Ruby said the last person they had seen near the cabinet was Will."

"So you went to find him," Killian supplied, knowing that she was never too far from her roots. "Naturally."

"Yes," she said with a smile. "I thought it would be easy. He's always in the same four or five spots. There aren't that many places in Storybrooke to hide. But when I got to Robin's campsite, it was empty. The men had all gone to the other side of the forest apparently. I was about to head to the library when I heard something."

"And you thought it was Will?"

_The wind had picked up, rustling not only the trees but the flaps of the tents and anything else that wasn't tied down. So when she heard the clanging sound from one of the tents, she did not assume it was anyone or anything other than the errant breezes of an approaching storm. But when a short cough was heard as well, she knew that someone was in the tent. She drew her gun and crept closer to the green housing. _

"_I know you're in there," she stated firmly. "Come out, now."_

_She hesitated a moment, giving whoever it might be a chance to emerge and explain himself. Nothing happened. Repeating her command, she gripped the handgun firmly in one hand and pointed its barrel at the tent's opening. Using her other hand, she pulled back the flap and blinked as she looked inside._

"_Gold," she said, with a note of surprise. "What are you doing in that tent?"_

_The man looked back at her with amusement, pulling himself back into the sun. "All alone, are you?" he asked, his giddiness shining through. "Not very smart."_

_Emma ignored the implication, her gun still pointed at him. "I asked you a question," she said. "This is private property."_

"_After all I have done, the Sheriff is concerned with my being in someone's tent," the man said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Such a shame that a woman such as yourself has been reduced to this. What's next? Are you going to go out and search for chicken thieves?"_

_Emma kept the gun in her hand, using the barrel to point to where she wanted him to stand. "Not that you would know, but bigger and better crooks, murderers and rapists have been brought up on charges that seemed ordinary at the time. But who cares what sends an evil man to prison so long as he goes there for life." She kicked the dirt with her boot. "Now tell me what you're doing here and where is Ingrid."_

_The older man laughed, his eyes sparkling with the thought of it. "I was just looking for a bit of news," he said. "Have to keep up on the happenings around town."_

_Emma pushed aside the obvious lie. "And Ingrid?" _

"_Gone," he said. "She's gone, gone, gone."_

"_Where?"_

_Rumple smiled sweetly, pointed to a camping chair next to a fire pit. "May I?"_

_She nodded. "Where is she?"_

_The older man's hands traveled to his breast pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I will assume that your boyfriend has told you of my acquisition," he said, not waiting for an answer. "A wonderful hat that has the ability to assist me in securing all of the magic in this realm. It's a beautiful and dangerous little item that I have desired for centuries." He shivered a bit at telling her of it._

"_And you took her magic?" Emma asked to understand his story._

"_Yes," he said with an impish grin. "I was able to use it on her. You should thank me. She was lying in wait for you in that cave. Another minute longer and she would have attacked. You, your icy friend, and Belle would have been no more."_

_Emma stared blankly at him, her mind racing to understand. "So now she's…"_

"_In the hat," he said too calmly. "I don't know for sure what that means for her fate. Is it another realm? It could be a prison of sorts. No matter. When she became a part of the hat, it separated her from her magic."_

_Unconsciously, Emma took a step back. "And that means…"_

"_That I now control her powers too," he said in a matter of fact tone. "I am gaining quite a collection that you should envy." He folded his hands together almost prayer like, watching her process his announcement. _

"_And where is this hat?" she asked, punctuating the last word harshly._

"_In a safe spot," he assured her. "You're a bit worried about it? Afraid I might take you into it too?"_

"_Are you threatening me?" she asked, clutching the gun harder. "Are you?"_

"_Not yet," he said. "I'm afraid there is a complication when it comes to your magic."_

Emma told Killian of the conversation, explaining she did not know what he meant about complications or about what his next move would be in terms of the hat. He pressed her, asking for more details, but she was unable to provide them. "I just don't know," she said for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes. "I just don't know."

_**So I'm throwing some clues out in this chapter and the one before. Anyone picking up on them yet? By the way, I'm still not over that goodbye scene. I cried for a while after that.**_


	24. Chapter 24 - Devious

_**If you knew what I was thinking about the next chapters, you wouldn't like me very much right now. **_

_**Disclaimer: All magic comes with a price, but not one that I can afford. So I own nothing. **_

The low drone of the radio hummed in the background as morning light spilled through the windows of the apartment and into the kitchen. Water from the shower ran in the background and Emma's hairdryer roared from the bedroom. "And next we…?" Elsa peered into the frying pan, watching as Henry stirred the eggs furiously.

"We can add a little cheese," Henry suggested, nodding to the freshly shredded pile next to the stove. "Just sprinkle it in."

Elsa followed his instructions, sprinkling the cheddar over the eggs. Stepping back from the stove, she watched the son of her roommate continue to worry over the breakfast. "Now we wait?" she asked.

"Now you need to slice the bread," he instructed. "Knife's in the drawer to your left." He sprinkled a bit more salt in the mixture. "We've got about three minutes left on the bacon and…"

Looking up from the drawer, Elsa looked toward the master bedroom and smiled. "Henry," she said. "Before your mom comes out here. I was thinking that maybe we could talk."

"Sure," he said. "About what?"

"Your mom has been really busy lately," Elsa said, digging through the drawer. "And well…I feel like I've been kind of a third wheel around her and Hook." She shut the drawer and opened the next, her hands digging through mixing spoons, paring knives, and other utensils.

Henry shook his head. "I don't think you are," he said. "Mom likes having you around. She's threatening to take you shopping for new clothes, but she's cool about it."

Elsa took another glance at the closed door. "That would be fun," she agreed. "But I was talking about your mom having some time alone with Hook." She frowned, closing the drawer again. "Where is the knife?"

"It should be there," Henry answered, transferring the pan of eggs to a bowl. "You think they need time alone?" he asked, reminding Elsa that he was just 12 years old. "Oh I get it. You think they want more time to kiss."

Elsa smirked, ducking her head down. "Yes, that's it," she agreed. "I was thinking that maybe you could go to Regina's and I could stay at Mary Margaret and David's tonight? What do you think?"

Henry laughed. "Sure," he said. "I can do that. But you tell her why, okay? She gets weirded out if I mention her and Killian kissing."

"Thanks," Elsa said, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. "So is the bacon done, yet?"

Henry peeked in the oven. "Almost," he declared. "How's the bread coming?"

"I still can't find the knife," she said, throwing up her hands. "This is ridiculous. Do we not own more than one knife up to the task?" Henry began rooting through the drawers himself, muttering about all the junk and lost items.

"Morning," Emma said as she emerged from her room. "What's going on?"

"We're making breakfast," Elsa said proudly. "Or at least Henry is showing me how you usually do it."

Emma peeked at the eggs and sniffed the scent of the bacon in the air. "I'm impressed," she said with a proud smile toward her son. "You have managed to cook and not burn down the apartment. Very nice job, kid." She smiled at Elsa, who looked proudly on at Henry's accomplishments.

"Elsa helped," he supplied, still digging through the drawers.

She laughed. "Take the credit, Henry," Elsa said. "You did the cooking. I cracked a few eggs and set the table."

"Lad, you'll be well served to learn to take a compliment from a lady," Killian said, emerging from the bedroom and smiling at the scene before him. "They don't offer them often, especially not women like your mother." He wound one arm around Emma's waist from behind, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

"I offer them when they are needed," she said, placing both her hands over his at her stomach. "Maybe you just haven't earned any lately."

***AAA***

Killian was just adding a fresh coat of stain to the deck of ship when he heard Elsa calling out to him. She smiled shyly when he waved to her, lifting her dress as she stepped off the dock and onto the ship.

"To what do I owe the honor of a royal visit?" he asked. His eyes flashed mischievously as she wrinkled her nose a bit. "The scent is fish," he explained, pointing to another nearby ship that had just begun to unload its nets. "Quite common around the docks."

"I didn't come down here to discuss the commerce of the city of Storybrooke," she told him, squinting into the blaze of sunshine. "I'm here about Emma."

"Is she alright?" Killian asked, his grin fading to a look of concern. "Where is she?"

"At work, I presume," Elsa said, waving her hand as if to ward off his concern. "She's fine. I wanted to ask you about her."

He lowered his shoulders as the news that she was alright relaxed him. "Oh," he said. "What about her?"

Elsa cleared her throat. "It's a bit of a favor, actually," she said. "You see I was hoping to have the apartment to myself for the evening. Henry is going to Regina's and I thought you might help me by asking Emma out."

"Asking her out?" he repeated. "How is that a favor?"

Elsa smiled nervously. "You see I don't really want her asking any questions about my need of the apartment," she explained. "So if you could distract her by taking her to dinner or something…"

Killian chuckled. "Our time together lately has been a bit domestic in nature," he noted. "Watching movies or dinners where one of us cooks."

Elsa knew of those dinners, as she had on a few occasions walked in and realized that they were attempting some semblance of romance. That meant she spent the evening in her bedroom, alone and trying to ignore Emma's response that they would welcome her company. "Yes," she said. "I'm aware. Would you consider my request…"

He chuckled. "I hardly need an excuse, but I should enjoy the opportunity," he said. "Tonight?"

Elsa nodded. "Give me an hour and then ask her?"

"You have a deal, your highness," he said, mock bowing to her.

***AAA***

Emma turned off the radio in the office, needing the quiet to read the file that she had found on Rumpelstiltskin. Her face fell as she read through it, finding little more than hyperbole and myth rather than concrete facts about the man. She knew he had magic, powerful magic that scared the living daylights out of most people. He was ruthless and shrewd, but there were no tangible examples of this in front of her. And despite her standing as the product of true love and the Savior, she is a woman who prefers facts and evidence over intrinsic knowledge.

The water in her bottle is almost room temperature, but she liked it that way. It made it slide down her throat easier. Taking another sip, she stared upward and waited for divine intervention. The man's voice echoed in her ears, speaking of complications and delays in his master plan. It all seemed like riddles and she was at the butt of it. Her stomach churned, turning over and over with a flourish. She didn't need this now, not the nerves or the stress or whatever was causing her to feel this way.

"Emma?" asked a quiet voice behind her.

"Hey," Emma responded, smiling warmly as her friend slipped into a chair next to the desk. "I thought you were busy preparing for city council."

Elsa shrugged, her face angelic and sweet. "I was hoping you might do me two favors," she asked, her voice rising on the last word. "Please?"

"Of course," Emma agreed, relaxing back into her chair. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, first I need the apartment this evening," she said, ducking her head shyly. "To myself. Not all night, mind you. I just need a few hours. Please?"

Emma attempted to hide the shock on her face, and laughed nervously. "That's fine by me," she said. "Mind if I ask why?"

Elsa blushed, turning to David who was busily typing on his computer by the window. He offered no respite for her. "Okay three favors," Elsa said hurriedly. "Can you just not ask any questions right now?"

Emma laughed nervously again. "Okay, so private time in the apartment for a few hours, no questions, and…" She watched her friend expectantly.

"I need to go shopping," Elsa said quickly. "I thought maybe you could take an hour or so off and join me? I really need some advice on what to wear."

Emma shot a look at her father who shrugged and nodded. "I have it under control here," he said. "Nobody's heard from or seen Gold since you did. Go ahead."

Grabbing a clip out of her drawer, Emma pulled her hair back and clipped it in place. The long blonde hair she wore traveled down the back of her blue sweater toward her waist. "So apartment, no questions, and shopping. Is that all?"

"I think so," Elsa said, smiling back. "We should be on our way then."

Emma grabbed her brown leather coat off the rack, wrapping it around her shoulders and pushing her arms through the sleeves. She glanced back at her desk for a moment. "You'll call if there is any change?" she asked her father to which he nodded. "Maybe I could come over tonight and play with the baby. We could watch a movie or something?"

Elsa coughed loudly and David raised his eyebrows. "That's sweet of you, Emma," he said, awkwardly. "I…We have plans though. Mary Margaret and I are having dinner with Aurora and Philip. We thought the babies could play together."

Emma watched him dig through the papers at the corner of his desk as he nibbled on a pastry. "Oh…that is okay," she said. "I'll see what Ruby's up to tonight."

Elsa placed a hand on Emma's back and led her out of the office. "I think Ruby said something about working late tonight. Maybe Hook would want to do something? I need him out of the apartment too."

Emma's voice was lost as they walked down the hall and outside.

***AAA***

"Did you talk to him?" Elsa questioned, from behind the dressing room door. "Hook, I mean."

Emma stood here, her hip extended and her arms loaded down with various clothing items. "I have my hands full," Emma told her. "I haven't exactly had a moment to return his call."

"Well do it now," Elsa said. "I want details. He'll probably ask you to do something romantic. Maybe you should get something new to wear." She yanked on the jeans that Emma had told her were perfect for her frame, pairing them with a light blue sweater with a cowl neck. She stared into the mirror, flinching at her reflection. Opening the door she stepped out and spun in front of Emma. "What do you think?"

"You look great," Emma said with a smile. "That is your signature color."

Elsa grinned back, holding out her arms. "Now hand me those so I can try them on. You get out your little talking device and call him. Give the man some notice."

Emma laughed at the other woman's bossiness. "I'll call," she conceded, "but first you have to tell me something. This isn't a question about why you need the apartment. It's about why you're taking such an interest in dating all of a sudden."

Elsa laughed nervously again. "I just thought that you'd find the evening more enjoyable in Hook's company than alone and waiting on me."

Tearing the phone from her pocket, she held it up to Elsa. "Fine, I'm calling," she said. "He probably wants to grab dinner or something at Granny's."

"No," Elsa said, even stomping her foot a bit. "You have an evening to yourself with him. Do you really think that the best he can plan is dinner at Granny's? Now call him back."

With a sigh of resignation, Emma glanced at the phone. "You are really bossy sometimes, Elsa," she said. "Fine…nicer than Granny's. There aren't a lot of choices for that, you know."

"What about the restaurant you went to on your first date?" Elsa asked. "That was romantic."

Emma shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Yes, and that was his idea and planning. If I suggest a redo of that, it's like admitting to him that he's better at planning a date than I am." She ran her finger across the screen and began scrolling through her text messages.

"Is it a contest?" Elsa asked.

Emma read another message and smirked. "With him everything is a contest or competition," she said, laughing. "I'm not kidding. It's funny though. He likes to prove that he's in control or that I'm not." She shook her head. "It's annoying and cute all at the same time."

"And you don't like to lose either," Elsa said. Flipping her braid back over her shoulder, Elsa smiled and held up a green jumper dress. "Me?"

"It looks great," Emma said. "And fine…maybe I like to win too. Is that so bad?"

_**Feed the hungry writer…I need reviews. Thanks for reading. **_


	25. Chapter 25 - Anticipation

_**I feel a bit guilty here. First this is one of the shorter chapters. Second there is a bit of cliffhanger. And third I'm sick so I might not have an update for a day or so. Who knows? Maybe I'll feel better after a nap and can write more. **_

"You're going to a lot of trouble, love," Killian said to Elsa as she shooed him out the door. "I don't mind it, but what's your fascination with our date?"

Elsa jutted her chin out with a defiant look on her face. "Emma is my best friend in this realm," she told him. "Almost like a sister to me. I want to see her happy."

"And pizza and Netflix isn't special," Killian answered, running his hand through his hair. "I understand, but shouldn't you be more concerned with your own social life?" He smirked at her flustered hand waving.

"I'm a busy woman," she said. "I'm trying to do something pleasant and lovely for my roommates and you have become incredibly suspicious."

Killian held the door open with his foot, eyeing the woman carefully. "I am appreciative," he said. "And I'm sure Emma will be as well. By the way, that's an attractive wardrobe change for you."

"Thank you," she said, offering him a bit of a curtsey as a mocking gesture. "You had a point a few weeks ago that if we are to fit in with the good people of Storybrooke that perhaps we have to adapt to their customs and fashions. Now go. Being tardy for your date takes a bit of the romance out of it."

***AAA***

Emma grimaced as her mother brushed her hair, realizing that the more her mother talked and interacted the more distracted she became. That meant the less she concentrated on Emma's hair and the more it hurt as she ran the black bristles through Emma's blonde hair.

"Where's he taking you?" Mary Margaret asked, her girlishness on overdrive. "I bet it'll be…"

"I don't know, Mom," Emma announced, tentatively touching her scalp. "Wherever it is, I would prefer to have hair so can we be a little gentler?"

Mary Margaret smiled in the mirror apologetically. "Sorry," she said. "I just get excited about this kind of thing."

Rolling her eyes, Emma handed her mother the gold clip that she had chosen. "I get that," Emma said with a short laugh. "But it's just us going to dinner. I wanted to look nice, but we're not talking anything major here. It's dinner with a guy I happen to be living with now."

"It's a date," Mary Margaret said. "That's a romantic thing if you're living together or been married 50 years. He's taking you someplace to enjoy your company. That's pretty sweet." Taking her hand away from her daughter's hair for a moment, the brunette picked a bit of fuzz off her sweater. "Take some advice from your mother. Don't ignore gestures like a date or a dinner alone from a man you love. Life with your true love is special and incredible in its own way. But sometimes life gets in the way and those sweet moments fall to the side. The candlelit dinners are replaced by potlucks or take out from Granny's. Dances under the stars are replaced by…"

"No offense, but this is highly depressing," Emma said with a laugh. "I'm aware that life isn't always romantic and sweet. You and Dad have both managed to teach me that in the time we've been back together. So I have no illusions about this."

"That's a good thing," Mary Margret commented, pulling a few more strands of hair into the clip. "I wonder where you got all this blonde hair sometimes. Your father was never this light headed and I certainly wasn't."

***AAA***

"I know you hate being the center of attention," David told his daughter when he got back home. "You are likely to throw your neck out of alignment if you roll your eyes anymore."

Emma laughed a little, smoothing out the emerald green dress that she had bought reluctantly at Elsa's urging. It was not as feminine as what she had worn on their first date, nor was it as sleek as some of her other date night outfits of the past. Its A-line fit was nothing new, but it flattered her with the way it hit just above her knees and was accented with a tiny gold belt.

"You look beautiful," David told her, kissing her forehead softly. "I'm only sorry that if he doesn't hurry up and arrive, I'm going to miss another chance to give my protective dad speech."

"David," Mary Margaret said warningly. "She's not a little girl."

"It's fine," Emma said. "At least Mom's cooled it with the paparazzi routine. I do wonder what's up with Elsa though. Why would she need the apartment?" Emma smiled as she glanced at her phone, reading the message from Elsa about the selfie she had sent and then another asking her to send one of her and Killian when he arrived.

"David, we should get going," Mary Margaret said, checking the diaper bag one more time. "Aurora said she would have dinner on the table soon."

***AAA***

Killian backed out of the door of the flower shop, clutching the single red rose in his hand and nodding to the proprietor with a courteous smile. His steps were light as he walked down the block and mentally went through the check list for their date, laughing internally at Elsa's insistence that he make it special and romantic. The woman had checked with him numerous times, including texting him quotes from some magazine that she had found at the library called _Cosmopolitan_. And while he still struggled with his grasp on technology, Elsa had not completely abandoned her previous habits either. Despite repeated suggestions that they did not need to identify themselves on each text message, Elsa insisted on signing off of each one with her full name and formal title.

"You need to show Emma how special you think she is," Elsa had instructed him. "You don't want her to think that you take her for granted."

Stopping at the corner, he viewed his reflection in the plate glass of a store window. Elsa had gone so far as to suggest a shirt for him, choosing a dark green button down paired with dark pants and his signature boots. He was still a few minutes early to pick Emma up from her parents', but he was running out of both excuses and willpower.

He was about two blocks from the loft when he felt the familiar jolt of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Emma's name and message that she was looking forward to tonight. She might not be able to see him through the phone, but he gifted her image with one of his brightest smiles.

He heard the engine of a nearby car rev, its headlights bright against his eyes. Lifting his right hand, he shielded his eyes and attempted to make out the car's driver. The lights grew closer and despite his hurried steps seemed to follow him. He squinted and peered again at the approaching car, unable to see anything over the high beams.

His legs stretched for the safety of the sidewalk, but it was too late. The car sped toward him and with a final blow sent him rolling up and over the hood of the car, a sickening crunch within his body as he landed moments later on the asphalt. He instinctively reached for his phone, but found it in pieces from the impact. Dropping it to the hard surface below, he watched the red tail lights retreat as his world closed in on him. Numbness and black settled over him, his lungs feeling piercing sharpness with each breath. Just as quickly as the car had arrived, he felt the blackness take over and slip him farther away from his Swan.

_**I'm ducking over here, but you were warned that I was about to do something you wouldn't like. I promise a good pay off. **____** That pay off comes sooner with reviews. **_


	26. Chapter 26 - Waiting

_**So I couldn't sleep. I wrote one more chapter to tide you over. Hope you aren't ready to kill me yet.**_

_**Answering a few questions that have come up -**_

_**Are you killing Killian?  
>1. I'm not killing Killian. I could never do that.<strong>_

_**Is Elsa still looking for Anna?  
>2. Yes, Elsa is still looking for Anna. She's just not doing that much in my fic because how much can you write about it?<strong>_

_**Is Emma pregnant?  
>3. Ummmmmm...I can't really answer that right now.<strong>_

_**Is the Snow Queen really gone?  
>4. Hard to say. Rumple's not really a reliable witness.<strong>_

_**Disclaimer: If I did own these characters, there would probably be a riot at my house for what I'm doing to Killian right now. **_

She's falling. That was all she can think as she stands there next to the admissions desk at the hospital and taps her foot angrily waiting on someone to call for Dr. Whale. Her father stood behind her, practicing his stern and princely glares at any person who wore a nametag or uniform. Her mother and Elsa had staked out chairs in the corner away from the door and noise of the television. And while she was appreciative of their presence, she was more interested in finding a way to help Killian.

"He's in surgery," the woman behind the counter said, clutching a clipboard as though it might contain the answers to questions about the meaning of life. "I can't say any more than that."

Emma frowned, her arms folded and an indignant stare on her face. "Can't or won't?" she asked. "I want to know about his condition. Is that too hard to answer," she looked at the nametag, "Carly?"

"I don't know anything more than is written on this chart," the woman said, her voice and body shaking. "I'm sorry. I just don't."

Emma felt her father's hands tug her away from the desk, his voice sure and steady as he explained that he was leaving her there with her mother and friend so that he could go back to the scene of the incident. "We'll catch who did this, Emma," he told her. "I promise you."

But for once in her life she was not thinking of laws or perpetrators. She did not find comfort in the idea of someone sitting behind bars while Killian was upstairs in surgery, away from her, and fighting for his life. She had seen him injured before. His cracked voice calling her beautiful as he joked about it hurting when he laughed. She had taunted him then, calling him a dead man. But this was different. When she had received the call to come to a hit and run scene, she had scribbled a note for him that she would be right back. She just needed to make sure Robin could hand it.

He didn't get the note. He was there when she arrived, crumpled, bleeding, and unconscious. She screamed his name, tears coming so fast and furious that she felt blinded by them. She wasn't sure who brought her to the hospital or how she arrived, but she was there now. And it felt no better.

"Emma," her mother said. "Can we get you anything? Coffee? A magazine?"

How could anything help? She thought to herself the number of times she had delivered bad news to people. She always offered them something to ease the pain and tension, but in that moment she'd never realized she had not done it for them. She had done it for herself. She'd done it to feel useful and needed. But she did what everyone else did and shook her head, marveling that her mother seemed more relieved at the offer than her denial.

Elsa was quiet, her face crumpled occasionally into tears, white snowflakes dancing around her. She would shake her head and wave them away just as easily as wiping away a tear. She looked relatively fragile herself as she rubbed her own arms and perked up each time a man or woman in a white coat walked through.

"This is taking forever," Emma said, her voice unsure. "But maybe that's good?"

Mary Margaret nodded. "I'm sure it is," she said. "They wouldn't be spending so much time if there wasn't hope." She looked back down at her hands. "I should call Aurora and…Regina. I'll check on Neal and Henry." She stood and looked down at the other two women, both forlornly staring in opposite directions, neither speaking. Hesitantly, she excused herself to go outside.

"I'm sorry, Emma," Elsa said in one large exhale. "If I hadn't tried to get you guys to have a romantic date, you would both be at home and safe. I didn't realize…"

"It's not your fault," Emma said. "If you get to blame yourself for wanting time alone, I can blame myself for making him pick me up at my parents. I could have easily just met him at wherever we were going to go." She was startled as a siren screeched outside the emergency room entrance, its red lights interrupting the yellowish glow of the room.

Elsa swallowed, her long fingers digging into her arms. "I'm not sure what I can do to help," she said. "There must be something."

Emma shook her head, the long curls that her mother had painstakingly perfected were no longer unspoiled. Her makeup streaked from her tears, as her dress wrinkled as she sat. "I wish I knew," she whispered. "He's got to be okay."

Thoughts of his strength and promises of survival crossed her mind, but they all seemed superficial and unneeded. He was up there fighting without her. An unseen enemy had done this. That left her more helpless than she realized she could feel. Graham and Neal's deaths had been mercifully fast, no lingering doubts as she could have clung to false hope.

"Ms. Swan," a man said, his eyes questioning and his demeanor unsure. "Are you Ms. Swan?"

Emma stood, rubbed her palms on the dress, and stared ahead. "Yes, are you his doctor?" she questioned. For a moment she wondered which character and story he was associated with in the Enchanted Forest. Maybe her parents would know. "How is he?"

"He made it through the surgery," the man said, pushing his wire rimmed glasses up his nose. "His injuries are quite severe."

Elsa stood with her friend, gripping her shoulder as if to hold her up. "How severe?" Emma asked, feeling the floor move with her.

"There was some damage to his chest, most specifically his lungs, but that was probably one of the easiest to repair," the older gentleman said. "And he has several fractures and breaks. We've inserted pins into his legs and performed a similar repair on his shoulder. With physical therapy and time to recover, he should have full use again soon."

The breath she had been holding eased out slowly. Her eyes blinked back the tears that threatened to overflow again. "Sounds like he was lucky," she gasped.

"We have some concerns about brain injuries," the doctor said, his voice lower than it had been. "There is some swelling of the brain and some fluid. We'll have to get a better look through and MRI, but for now we're monitoring his condition."

"Can I see him?" Emma asked, not wanting to process the list of injuries and treatments. She just wanted to hold his hand, see his blue eyes, and listen to him laugh at her concern over him as his ego swelled with its knowledge. "Please."

The doctor frowned. "Not yet," he said. "You're not directly family and I shouldn't be out here telling you this at all. He's in ICU right now. Once we get him to a regular room, perhaps then…"

Shaking off Elsa's grip, Emma felt the rage tear through her body. "I want to see him," she said firmly. "I must…"

Again the doctor frowned at her. "I can't allow that yet. Maybe when he wakes up…"

Elsa grabbed Emma's shoulder again and spun her to the door. "Henry's here," she said. "You need to put on your bravest face for him. He needs you to be strong." As Emma stared at her son's fast approach, she did not hear of see the doctor walk away. Her son launched himself into her arms.

"How is he?" Henry asked, sounding just as demanding as his birth mother. "He's going to be okay, right? Mom?"

Emma could not make any words form as she pulled him tight against her, both arms circling around him and the tears falling again. She looked up to see Regina standing there, a bag in hand and her brown eyes looking remarkably sympathetic. "Henry let me in your apartment to get some clothes for you," she explained, dropping the bag on an empty chair. "Didn't think you'd want to sit here all night in your date clothes."

"Thank you," Emma said, still clinging to Henry. "Thank you." She made a short list of Killian's injuries for her son, not dwelling on the unknowns.

"Mom?" Henry asked Regina, his face hopeful like his grandmother's normal expression. "You can help, right? You can fix this."

Regina licked her bottom lip. "Henry," she said warningly. "Honey, it isn't that simple. His injuries weren't caused by magic. That was a manmade incident. I can't fix those things." She gritted her teeth, watching her son cling to Emma as though both holding her up and wanting to be held himself. "Your grandfather is the only person I know capable of that sort of thing…"

"He made it through his surgery," Emma reminded Henry, her hands coming up to grip his face. "He's sleeping right now." Her voice broke as she talked, the words tasting sour and bitter in her mouth. The acid in her stomach burned all the way to her throat as she felt herself fight to avoid vomiting. "He's just sleeping right now."

"Honey," Regina said. "Maybe we should let Emma get some rest too. I'll keep my phone on tonight if there are any updates. And we can stop back by before school. How's that sound?"

Henry twisted his head to look at the woman who had raised him, his eyes shining with fear. "No," he said. "I want to stay. I need to be here for my mom and Killian." He turned his face back to Emma and silently pleaded with her to let him stay.

Elsa was the one to speak up. "Henry," she said. "I'm going to stay with Emma tonight. And tomorrow, you and your grandparents and I can sit down and work out a schedule. Killian is going to be here for a while. So we shouldn't wear ourselves out on the first night. We'll take turns and it will be easier on everyone." She smiled at both mothers, hoping that her words would help him a little bit.

"But you'll call, even if…"

"We'll call you," Elsa said. "I've got a phone now too. So don't worry."

_**So who hit Killian? What's Emma going to do? **_


	27. Chapter 27 - Hoping

_**I know this is not as fluffy as earlier chapters, but I'm promising good things to come. Thanks for those of you sticking with me. **_

As the night wore on, Emma and Elsa were moved from the general waiting area to one of the upper floors. The room was smaller, but its location away from the hustle of the emergency room meant it was warmer and more private. The two women staked out a corner, keeping to themselves mostly and jerking awake whenever anyone entered the room. David had returned for a few hours, bringing sandwiches for them and updating Emma on the lack of evidence. At Emma's insisting, he took Mary Margaret home to be with their son.

So far the most comfortable position was keeping her legs out in front of her with her feet on a table that had been littered with magazines dating back five or six years. She rested her head against the wall, having given up on making a pillow out of her jacket about the fifth time it had fallen out of place.

Elsa was having a harder time, shifting and fidgeting to find the right position. She had threatened to sleep on the floor, but rejected the idea after a five minute discussion about the cleanliness of the carpet. A kindly hospital worker had flipped off the overhead florescent lights, but the glow of the television still bathed both women in odd colors and murmured indistinctly from the other side of the room with no viewers.

"I'd ask if you wanted anything, but I know you'll say no," Elsa said, standing and stretching her arms over her head. "Even you have probably had enough coffee to last us a week. And the last cup I got out of that machine was thicker than mud."

Emma cracked her eyes open and shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she said. "But go get you something, if you want."

"Want to take a walk with me?" Elsa asked.

"No," Emma said, staring at the old fashioned phone in the corner. The doctor had said that they would call on that if there were any changes. Right now she wanted to stay with it, keeping vigil on it until the lump in her chest was gone. "I should…"

"They'll track us down if anything…"

"No," Emma said. "Not right now." Turning her body slightly, she rested her head back on the wall and closed her eyes.

Elsa nodded and limped slightly from the room, the stiffness of sitting for so long still contracting her muscles. She politely said she'd be back, but knew that Emma was already slipping back into that half-asleep mode where she would not respond.

Alone in the room, Emma kept her eyes closed, too tired to sleep. Sleep was something that someone with a clear head and heart could do easily. She did not qualify. Each time she felt the warm comfort of sleep begin to pull her under, she would think of him. She pictured him smiling. She pictured him holding her tight as they drifted to sleep.

Her eyes opened slowly at the intrusion of the light, brightly shining from all the windows in the corner room. She groaned with the realization that it was morning already with no word on Killian or his condition. Elsa was not in the spot near her, the room quiet and still. She stood carefully, feet firmly planted on the ground.

The hallway was longer than she remembered, each door hanging open and light emanating from around corners and overhead. Blinking, she made her way toward it – noting the absence of anyone she knew or recognized. She peeked in each room, seeing empty beds. In the second to last room, she found him.

He did not look like the patient in her imagination. He sat on the edge of the bed, his former pirate regalia on full display. His hair was disheveled and in need of a trim. His stubble was dark and added to the dangerously pointed way that his blue eyes stared straight at her. She gasped to see him there, breaking into a run straight to him.

"Killian!" she said, throwing her arms around him. "How are you okay?"

He chuckled, his hand smoothing back her hair. "I should think you know that, love."

She pulled herself back from the embrace, raising her own hands to his face and inspecting him. "This is a dream, isn't it?" she asked, disappointment tinging her voice. "You're still unconscious and I'm in the waiting room asleep."

"Aye," he agreed, watching her sigh in frustration.

"It feels…You feel so real to me. You look…"

"Devilishly handsome?" he offered. "This is your doing. It's your dream." His smile melted her for a moment, the same smile he had gifted her with so many times. Had she ever told him what it did to her? Had she ever said the words aloud?

"You look perfect," she said. "I'm a little surprised by the coat, though." She fingered the long and heavy leather coat, running her hands up it gingerly.

"You must like me like this," he said with a shrug. "That's the most logical explanation." Leaning backward, he swung his legs up on the bed. "Join me?"

She did not hesitate as she laid next to him in the bed, placing her chin on her hand as she looked up at him. "I do like you like this," she said. She watched his nonchalant attitude as he ran his fingers through her hair, holding out long strands. Eyebrow arched, he seemed to be waiting for her to realize something.

"Perhaps this isn't a dream," he suggested easily. "Maybe we're both dead. It could be heaven."

"Don't say that," she said a bit more harshly than she wanted. "Don't say that you're dead."

"Emma…" his voice was hoarse, eyes burning.

"Don't say it," she repeated. "I won't let you leave me like this. You can't." Again the tightness in her chest overwhelmed her. "You can't leave me like this. I can't do this…"

"Shhh…." He soothed. "I'm afraid it is not up to you, but I promised you that I would do my best. I am a good at surviving."

She swallowed the sob that threatened to erupt. "You said that before," she said. "And I'm holding you to it." Reaching her hand up to meet his, she pulled it in front of her. "I've never asked you about your rings," she said sadly, running her fingers over each. "I should have asked you."

He was silent, letting her marvel over the things that she never noticed before that time. She studied each scar, mark, and line. She wondered about each. She marveled over the tinges of amber in his facial hair, the perfect cut of his jaw, the thick lashes that framed his eyes. "Are you done, love?" he finally asked. "Do I meet your approval?"

She smiled. "Of course," she said. "I hate that this is the first time I'm really paying attention to you and it's just a dream. You don't know how I feel. Not really. You don't know…"

"I know, Emma," he said softly, his voice gentle and rolling. "You are an open book to me. I know what you're feeling and thinking before you do sometimes." He laughed. "And you know that too, otherwise it wouldn't be a part of your dream."

"When you wake up, I'm going to make sure," she said solemnly. "I'm going to tell you every day."

He smiled again, looking at a point that seemed to be above her head. "Love, you need to go now," he said. "Someone's looking for you."

"No," she said, feeling the fire of an argument beginning to grow. "I'm not done yet…"

"Go," he said. "You'll…"

She closed her eyes. "I don't want this to be over," she told him. "I don't want this to end."

The first hand gripped her shoulder, shaking her slightly. She knew it wasn't him when the second hand did the same. "Emma?" the voice said. "Emma, are you okay?"

Emma opened her eyes to Elsa staring back down at her with a worried expression. "I'm fine," she muttered, her own hands slipping from her knees to the cold floor. "Where…"

"I came back from my walk and you were gone," Elsa said, kneeling down next to her. "We found you here." Elsa waved a hand to indicate the hallway, Emma sat with her back against a large wooden door. Dr. Whale was over Elsa's shoulder, watching her carefully. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Emma nodded groggily and held out her hands. "Help me up," she said, pulling herself into a standing position. "I was dreaming," she said. "I was just dreaming."

Elsa pulled her into a hug. "It's okay," she whispered. "Good news is that Dr. Whale said he's resting better now. He's not out of danger, but it is a good sign."

Emma turned her eyes to Dr. Whale, his demeanor soft and quiet from a few feet away. "He's okay?" she asked.

Dr. Whale cleared his throat and walked past her to the door. "He's in here," the man said, hesitating as his hand hovered by the doorknob. "I shouldn't let you in, but maybe a peek would do you some good." Opening the door, he held out his arm to block her from rushing into the room to his bedside. "See for yourself."

Emma caught herself on the doorframe, looking past the monitors and gadgets to the bed where he slept. She saw the bandages and bruises, her heart fluttering with each example of the extent of his injuries. But beyond all that, she saw him. She saw him sleeping, his face a familiar beacon. And from that spot in the doorway with Dr. Whale holding her back and Elsa gripping her hand, she saw a small flash of hope.

_**I have a very tough paper to write for one of my classes today. So a little positive review would be helpful with how crappy I feel right now. **_


	28. Chapter 28 - Needing

_**So writing this is so much more fun than writing about administrative laws and procedures. I had this written before I even got my topic started on my paper. Enjoy it. **_

_**As for suspects…yes, Gold is the most natural one. However, why not something magic? I hadn't thought about the ice thing…hmmmm?**_

Emma watched her mother speak with the nurses, her animated face excited and serene all at the same time. She was passing out little disposable cups of coffee, thanking them and asking about their families, friends, and jobs. When Emma gawked at her mother's chipperness, the woman just winked and carried on with the conversation.

"I'm afraid our surveillance system is a bit outdated," David was telling her. "I know that you've mentioned in bigger cities that there are cameras on every light post practically. We just don't have that here." The news was not surprising in a town that had only recently upgraded to VHS.

"So no leads then?" Emma asked, running a shaking hand through her hair.

"Not yet," David said. "But we're not stopping yet. Robin's going to talk to some of the business owners. And I've got to run soon to go see Michael Tillman about the car. Whoever did this certainly sustained damage to their car. If they get it repaired, he would know something."

Emma shot him a thankful smile, biting her lip as she looked back at her mother's social call. "What is she doing?" Emma couldn't help but ask. "Is she campaigning for office? Mayoral elections aren't for another two years."

Her father chuckled. "She's trying to convince them to let you back to see him," David told her. "She's good at that sort of thing. Hard to say no to her." They both watched Mary Margaret talk with the taller nurse, whispering furiously together. "Honey, we're worried about you. I know you want to be here for Hook."

"I'm not going back to the apartment," she said stubbornly. "I'm not."

"I didn't think you would," David answered. "And I'm not asking you to do that. But you need to take care of yourself. He's fighting for his life. And according to every doctor who has been in to see him, this fight is going to take a while. So while you're going on adrenaline right now, what happens when he wakes up? He's going to need you to be rested and ready to fight with him." David looked sympathetically at her worried face.

"I don't want to leave here," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb. "I need to be here when he wakes up." She knew that if she looked in the mirror she would barely recognize herself. Elsa had asked Mary Margaret to bring a bag of things to the hospital. She had removed her make-up, thrown her hair into a low pony tail and was wearing a comfortably thin pair of jeans and an oversized sweater. A scuffed and scarred pair of low boots were on her feet.

"You will be," David assured her. "I doubt he'd forgive us if you weren't. But what I'm suggesting is this. You stay the night. After the doctors round in the morning and give you an update, you come to the loft to shower, some actual food, and even catch a quick nap. You'll only be two blocks away."

"But…"

"The way your mother is making friends over there," David said, nodding to Mary Margaret's current gab session. "If Hook so much as moves his pinky, they'll be on the phone and calling you in to see him."

Emma told him she would think about it, not promising or discounting the offer either. She was aware that she would not be able to keep up the pace, desperate as she was to do so.

Mary Margaret thrust the final cup of coffee at her daughter. "You need your energy," her mother crooned, rubbing her still gloved hand on her hair to smooth it down a bit. "You're practically sleepwalking."

Emma shoved the coffee away, wrinkling her nose. "Sorry, but I think I had too much of that last night. I don't think my stomach can handle another cup."

Handing the cup to David, who greedily drank it, Mary Margaret clucked sympathetically at her daughter. "Are you sure you don't need anything?" she asked. "I'm sure we can…"

"I'm fine," Emma said, renewing her familiar mantra. "What did you find out with your new friends over there?"

Mary Margaret smiled and linked her arm through her daughter's, leading her back to the waiting area with David following them. "I made sure he's getting the best care possible," she said with a gentle tug. "And you'll be able to spend some time with him this morning before they run a CT."

Her eyes shot open wider. "Are you serious?" she practically squealed. The excitement in her voice would be what Mary Margaret would later say hurt worse than seeing her daughter cry. It was the sound of innocence and exhilaration that reminded her of a teenage Emma that they had never met. They never had their daughter get excited about things, dance about her room with such exuberance that all they could do was laugh. It was such a rare glimpse at her in an unguarded moment that Mary Margaret almost gasped.

"It took some doing," her mother said. "And you can't stay too long, but I suggested that maybe it might help him to know you were there and hear your voice."

Emma stopped short, turning slightly to face her father who was sipping the coffee and proudly looking at his wife. "Dad," she said hesitantly. "When you were in the hospital…"

His smile faded at her question, still hanging in the air. Looking down at his feet, he frowned. "I don't remember much of that time," he admitted. "I remember after I woke up, but other than that…"

Emma nodded sadly, releasing herself from her mother's grip and sitting back on one of the uncomfortable chairs. "I guess I was hoping…"

"Emma," Mary Margaret said, taking the seat beside her. "Don't do that. Honey, please. He can hear you. I promise that he can. And when he wakes up he'll tell you himself that he wanted to hear your voice."

Emma plastered on a smile and nodded. "Thanks," she mumbled. "So when are they taking him for his CT?"

***AAA***

Her mother and four nurses had warned her not to be scared by the machines. And standing in the hallway that thought had made her laugh. But now she was standing in the center of his hospital room with machines beeping, air pumping and only the sickening whir of a florescent light for familiarity. She was scared to touch him, even the bits of skin visible from the blankets and bandages seemed fragile. He would laugh at her later for that thought, her referring to anything on a pirate as fragile.

Taking another step closer to the bed, she watched the slight rise and fall of his chest, wondering if it hurt. When he had been hit by a car before his ribs had been broken. Each breath he drew was ragged and tinged with the pain of the injury. Was it that way now? She hadn't thought to ask.

Another step. She could see his hair sticking out from the white gauze on his head, a familiar sight that reminded her of how he looked in the morning. It was one of her favorite times of day, those first few moments when he woke up, his features not yet marred by memories or responsibility. He appeared to her boyish and hopeful like that, mischievous even.

One more step and she'd be beside the bed. She chastised herself for taking so long to walk those few feet. Her time with him was limited and she was wasting it. Frowning, she took that last step and placed her hands over his. "Hey there," she said softly. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic. But you could have skipped this one. I was really looking forward to our date."

Sucking in a breath, she flinched. She didn't want him to feel guilty, as that seemed to be one of his traits. This wasn't his fault. "I don't know if you can hear me," she continued. "My mom thinks you can, but you know how she is. I don't think her optimism has rub off on me yet, but I'm trying." She smoothed her hand of her his, realizing that he wasn't wearing his rings. That felt strange to her fingers for a moment and she had to look and see.

"I'm not saying what I want to say," she trailed. "That's typical, I guess. It's odd to talk to you and not hear you talk back to me. Don't you want to argue with me? I know you do." She let the silence fill in around her again, sighing in frustration.

"Okay so my parents would give you this big speech right now on not giving up," she said. "And they would make you listen until you believe it yourself. I'm not very good at that, but I'm going to try it. I want to tell you that I love you, but it's more than that. I don't know that there are words for it. You'd know them if there were." She gulped, her vision blurring with tears.

"I don't know why this happened," she whispered. "It's not fair. And I know I always tell Henry that life isn't fair, but this is too much. It's horrible. But saying that isn't going to get you better so I have to concentrate on that." She gripped his hand with one of hers and placed the other on the bandaging of his right thigh. "You are the strongest person I know. And right now I need you to use that strength to fight and get back me. Get back to us. And besides being strong, you are as stubborn as a mule. It's something that has annoyed me in the past, but right now you need to be that stubborn pirate and fight your way back to me."

She choked again, her tears spilling over onto his unmoving form. "I need you, Killian," she said. "I need you so much. I want you to know that, okay? I want you to know how much I love you and need you. I want you in my life from now on…This world, my world, is better with you in it…so much better with you around."

Tentatively she leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. Pulling back, she realized she was hoping for the lights and whoosh of magic she had seen before, but there was nothing to indicate it had worked.

_**Thank you all for your kind words, suggestions, faith, and hope. You are helping me more than you know.**_

_**Wonder what was up with the kiss?**_


	29. Chapter 29 - Magic?

_**Glad that you guys are hanging in through the angst and the drama. Next update might not be until tomorrow night. I have some work projects that have me out of the office most of tomorrow and a daughter who has extra skating practice. That means not much computer time. **_

Henry Mills was in his English class when he got the text from his mom to come by the hospital on his way home to his other mom's house. He wondered how many other 12 year olds had two moms, even outside Storybrooke. When he slid the phone under his desk to text her back, she didn't respond right away and if he didn't have the eagle eyes of his teacher on him he might have sent another to her.

At his age, he was used to the demands of his mothers, tuning them in and out with the practiced hand of any pre-teen. It was different to be needed and wanted though, something he wasn't used to feeling. While he would never admit it, he enjoyed the texts from either woman asking him to pick up some item on his way home or when they asked for his opinion or advice. So being summoned to the hospital was right up there with those situations.

Also up there with things he wouldn't readily admit was the presence of family in his life now. For the first decade of his existence, he had only Regina. She had raised him and molded him into a respectful although resentful son. Emma was different. She was more relaxed in some areas, but dogged in others. She rarely punished or yelled, probably because she still in some ways doubted her place in his life. But with her she brought him grandparents who doted on him like he was the only child in their lives.

So between the new family he had, and the fact that both of his mothers were dating quite seriously, Henry was starting to feel a bit better about his situation. Regina's dating life meant that he had Roland to mentor and play with when there was family time in that household. Emma's dating life meant Killian, who unlike Robin was not yet immune to the persistence of someone like Henry. And both situations meant that he was able to have his mothers wanting to give him extra attention in the fear that they were somehow scarring him for life.

As his class inched forward in line toward the cafeteria, Henry looked at the door leading outside. It would be easy enough to slip out for a little while. His moms might not even make him come back if he really was needed by one of them. He didn't have his jacket on, but he could run the few blocks to the hospital and from there someone was bound to give him a ride if he needed it. Slyly bending down to tie his shoe, he let the other students pass him. He waited until they had entered the cavernous room where lunch was served and then darted out the door and past the teachers' cars toward the hospital.

***AAA***

"I don't think I understand what you're saying," Mary Margaret said for what felt like the tenth time. "You did surgery on him. You said there was extensive damage."

"Yes," the doctor said again, tapping his finger on the clipboard as though they could decipher his writing. "I don't have an explanation for it either."

Emma's frown deepened as she ran through the update they had just received. Killian's doctors had run the CT scans that morning, wanting to confirm pin placement and angles before moving on to other treatment. She had sunk back into the shadows of the room as they wheeled the bed back in, watching helplessly as they rearranged monitors and spoke in hushed tones about who was going to call which doctor.

"I've never seen…We'll have to run more tests," he said hurriedly. "Who all has been in to see him?"

"Just me…" Emma said, her voice trailing off. "Why? What do you suspect?"

The man shook his head. "Nothing. I just thought that…it's nothing." He grunted as his pager sounded, reading it quickly and nodding to the two women. "I'll be back."

Emma glanced at her mother's confused expression. "What is going on? Did he mean that the injuries are better? Is this good news?"

Her mother bit her lip, glancing at her watch. "I am going to call your father and see if he can figure this out with us. I just don't know." She gripped her daughter's upper arms. "I'm sure it is great news." The sleeves of Mary Margaret's thick wool sweater were stretched past her wrists from her nervous habit, one that her daughter had inherited.

"Then why is everyone freaking out?" Emma asked, her voice tight but seeping with questions. "He said there was no sign of them."

Mary Margaret's short hair bobbed as she nodded. "I heard him, Emma," she said. "I think we should wait for him to come back and see what he says."

Emma glanced over her shoulder at the room where Killian still slept. The door was partially open, allowing her to see his face from the hallway. Holding her breath, she watched the monitor next to him beep, its sound echoing in her head though she knew it was not actually that loud. "We don't really have much of a choice in that," she said.

***AAA***

Elsa tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator ascended to the next floor. Regina had insisted on avoiding the stairs, making some comment about her shoes and the fresh wax not being a good combination. It seemed to be taking an enormously long time as she watched the gauge climb and Regina inspected her nails.

As the doors finally slid open, Elsa passed Regina and threw herself into a full-fledged sprint down the hall. "Emma," she said, throwing her arms around her friend and feeling her stiffen at the touch. She forgot sometimes how much Emma hated such contact. "What's going on?"

Emma's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Regina's slow march toward them. When the brunette stopped before them, Emma finally spoke. "What you told Henry last night," she said, her hands balling into fists. "What you said about healing magic not working…"

"Miss Swan," Regina said, tilting her head to the side carefully. "You need to complete your sentences for me to understand."

"Was that a guess or common knowledge?" Emma finally said, her face reddening a bit from the exertion.

"It is knowledge from my experience," Regina answered. "I have seen it happen many times. When I'm involved an injury caused by magic can be healed by magic. However, I've never had any luck healing anyone who was struck by a car or in some other way injured. Our dark friend on the other hand has a more extensive ability. He is able to heal any injury. Why do you suddenly find this information so necessary?"

Emma didn't answer her, turning to Elsa instead. "And your experience?" she asked.

Elsa's features contracted as she considered the question. "I don't have much experience in either area, but…" She trailed off. "I've repaired things before. Things that were broken and I was able to fuse them back together."

Emma nodded again, taking a step back from the two women. "Something happened this morning," she said. "The doctors wanted to look at Killian's progress and it seems that there are no more signs of his injuries."

"He's already recovering?" Elsa asked, unsure what that information could possibly mean.

"No," Emma corrected, shooting a glance to Regina's shocked expression. "They don't exist. It is like he was never injured at all."

None of the women spoke as Regina leaned back against the railing on the wall.

"Mom!" Henry's voice cried out, running down the hallway. His cheeks were red from the wind and hands icy as he hugged both Regina and Emma at the same time. "What's going on?"

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Regina asked, grasping him by both shoulders to face her. "Why are you here?"

Emma ducked her head a bit. "I texted you to come by after school," she said quickly. "Not now."

"Mom, you know I want to know what's going on," he said, not specifying which woman he was talking to at the time. "And I need to help. Let me help."

Regina eyed him, slipping his backpack off his shoulder and placing it next to her. "Where is your coat?" she asked. "And do your teachers know where you are right now?"

He looked guiltily at both women. "I skipped out of lunch. That's all."

In typical Emma style, she rolled her eyes at her son. "You're going back," she said. "I just wanted to tell you that Killian's doing much better. I thought you would want to know that."

Henry smiled. "You could have texted me back."

"Sorry, kid," she said with a shrug. "I was kind of distracted. Why don't you sit down and we'll get something from the cafeteria before you head back to school?"

"Is he awake?" Henry asked, noting the worried expression on Emma's face. "He's not, is he?"

She shook her head, casting another glance toward the room. "Not yet."

Regina shrugged out of her jacket and placed it around her son's shoulders. "There," she said a bit triumphantly. "Let's get you warmed up."

Henry saw Emma's glance in the direction of the room and followed it. "Why isn't he awake?" he asked. "Did you try to kiss him?"

Emma frowned a bit, pulling her gaze back to her son. "Yes, but that's not working in this case. He's not under a sleeping curse." Reaching out, she gently touched his forehead where she had kissed him in the same hospital.

"Really?" Regina asked incredulously. "Did you say you kissed him? And it didn't occur to you that might be significant." She flashed a look at Elsa whose mouth gaped for a moment.

Emma almost provided a smart remark back to the other woman, but bit her tongue instead. "Yes," she said softly. "I guess I was hoping, but there was no bright lights and no puff of air. There was no sign of magic at all. It was just a kiss."

"Let me get this straight," the woman said. "You, a woman who has magic, kisses the injured man you love. He miraculously recovers from his injuries to the point that doctors can't tell what if anything is wrong with him. And you think that the kiss didn't have a thing to do with it?"

"But you said yourself…" Emma stated, her gaze wide and unsure.

"I said what has been my experience," Regina corrected. "I don't know if that is true of your abilities or not."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "Well that's great," she said with her trademark shake of the head. "I manage to heal him but not wake him up. What does that mean?"

Regina crossed her legs elegantly. "I'm sure we'll figure it out, but for now we need to concentrate on what we know."

_**You didn't think I'd hurt him to the point of it being permanent? Did you? It just about killed me to have to write about him being hurt in the first place. Though I think a few of us might have lined up to be nurses. **_

_**Countdown is on for him to wake up. What do you think Killian's first words should be when he wakes up?**_


	30. Chapter 30 - Dreaming

_**Wow…30 chapters and so many reviews, comments, followers, and favorites. It has been a long time since I have written any fan fiction, as my day job and school require so much writing from me. But this has been a fun experience and I look forward to sharing my stories with you.**_

The women could have hashed out their theories and assumptions for the rest of the day, but they curbed the discussion to other topics when the hypothesis-building session became too circular. Regina, who admitted she was just as confused as the others, once again loaded Henry up and took him home to what was no doubt a lecture about skipping school. Elsa offered to stay, but agreed to switch off the duty with David in exchange for a few hours sleep in an actual bed and a promise from Emma that she would consider doing the same soon.

Sitting across from his daughter, David held a thick book in his hands and stared down at the pages. It was a prop, he decided, a necessary accessory so that Emma would not realize that he was watching her and worried about her. He would turn the pages, even skim a few lines, but thankfully there would be no test on his reading comprehension.

She noticed that his eyes were never quite on the page, but ignored is as she threw her legs over the arm of the chair next to Killian's bed and twisted her body to curl up the best she could. He was still sleeping between them, no different than before except a lack of bandages and bruises. Head drooping toward her shoulder, she watched him sleep and wondered for the millionth time why this had happened.

"You could take a nap if you wanted," her father said, breaking the reverie of her thoughts. Unlike her mother's direct orders of what she should do and how she should behave in the situation, her father's demands were always masked as questions. _Was she sure she didn't want to eat another bite? Could she please help him out and finish his fries? His legs were stiff, would she mind taking a walk with him to stretch? _Their question form let his headstrong daughter keep some of her control, something she relished. But the questions did not take away his overt concern for her or his desire to be a supportive father.

"I will," she answered, still looking at Killian's sleeping form. She had studied him for so long she was beginning to wonder if there was anything she didn't know. The scar on his cheek was something she had seen hundreds of times, but she couldn't remember asking him about it. Add it to the list, she told herself. Mentally she was making a list of all the things she wanted to say or ask when he woke up from this. Maybe she'd have to teach him a game like 20 questions or truth or dare.

David went back to pretending to read his book and she let her eyes shut for what she told herself would just be a few minutes. She thought she might have even smiled as David laid the blanket on top of her, gently so as not to disturb her.

The moment she saw him at the end of the hallway she knew it was a dream again, but the joy of seeing him awake and like before was overwhelming. He stood there outside where the vending machines sat, his face vaguely amused as she rant to him.

"Happy to see me?" he asked when she broke off their hug.

She gave him a watery smile, wishing again that this moment was a real one. "I miss you," she said. "I know that you're asleep right in front of me right now, but this sucks. I want you to wake up and talk to me. I want you to argue with me. I want you to tell me…"

"I know," he said sadly. "Remember…"

She shook her head to cut him off. "I know you're just a dream," she said. "I might not have taken any psychology classes, but I know that this is my imagination."

"Your imagination seems to have made me quite real though," he said. "It could have made me like that cartoon version of myself you made me watch. That would make this a nightmare." He smirked, almost chuckling at the horror on her face.

"I get it," she said. "I just wish you could tell me what's going on. Why aren't you waking up? Are you going to be okay? Are you…"

His smile faded as she continued with the questions, no answers coming from his mouth. "I wish I could tell you all that and more, love," he said. "I would in a heartbeat, but this version of me doesn't know anything that you don't already know."

Biting her lip she felt him lower his face closer to her. Their foreheads touched. "You know I'm fighting to get back to you," he said. "I may not be able to tell you that right now, but I am. I'm fighting every second to wake up to you."

"Don't stop," she said sadly. "Don't give up, okay?"

"You'll have to tell the other me that," he laughed. "I don't know how all this works, but if you tell me something in your dream then it is a bit like you are talking to yourself."

"We wouldn't want that," she said. "They might lock me up and take me away from you." She touched the leather of his coat again, feeling its familiar coolness and weight on her fingers.

"We certainly wouldn't want that," he echoed, kissing her lips in a soft peck.

"My mother keeps talking about hope and that everything happens for a reason," she said after he pulled his face back. "I wish I could believe that. But it doesn't make sense. If things happen for a reason, what's the reason for this? Why does it have to be so hard for you? Why can't God or this universe just let you be happy? It isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair, love," he said. "But you know that. You asked yourself those questions as a child. You couldn't understand why life dealt you the hand it did when other children were happy."

"But it isn't fair," she said again. "If you don't come back to me from this, how am I going to live in this world without you? I know you can't promise that things are going to be alright, but…"

"I cannot see the future clearly," he admitted, darting his eyes to the side and back to her. "I don't know that our future even exists in a way we both want, but I know you, Emma. I know how strong you are because you're showing it every day here. And if this is the end then you will be fine. You will grieve. You will be angry. You will move on."

Pushing back on his chest with both her hands she angrily stared at his kind expression with fury. "No," she hissed. "Don't you say that to me. Don't pretend like you are just some guy I won't miss every day. Don't…"

"Emma," he said a little louder. "You'll be fine."

"No," she shrieked, her hands balling into fists as she hit his chest. "I cannot do this. I cannot…I don't want to do this. I want you to wake up and be here with me. I want you to know that I love you. I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. It hasn't been long enough yet."

"I know," he said, not even flinching at her attack. "I know how you feel."

"How?" she asked. "I can barely get the words out sometimes. How can you just know?"

"You're an open book," he said with a shrug. "You may not say the words that I want to hear, but you say them in your own way. Even if it is just a smile to something I say or just a single word at the town line. I know what you are trying to say."

"If you'd wake up right now, I'd do so much better," she said. "I swear I would." She reached out to him, smoothing her hands where she had just hit him.

"You seem to doubt that I'm going to survive," he said, the smirk back on his lips. "You've already managed to heal my injuries. So why doubt my ability to wake up from this?"

"I don't know how I did that though," she said. "I wasn't trying to do that. It just happened. And I kissed you. It wasn't like true love's kiss at all. Does that mean something?"

"I don't know," he answered again.

"I wish you were real," she said, clinging to him again, arms around him and his around her. "I want…"

"How do you know I'm not real?" he asked her, his voice a bit muffled by her hair. "This feels real." He dropped a kiss on her cheek. "And this?" Another on the tip of her nose. "And this?" His lips touched swiftly on hers.

"You've even said this was just a dream," she said, her mouth seeking his again. She found it, sharing a moment or two of a sweet kiss before he broke away again.

"And people can't communicate through them?" he asked. "That doesn't seem like too much for you to believe." She scrunched her face up with both sadness and worry, unsure she did have enough faith to believe him even in her dreams.

"I don't know," she said, using his line.

"You can believe you are the daughter of fairy tale characters," he scoffed. "You can believe in Neverland and the Enchanted Forest. You can believe in pirates, wizards, giants, fairies, and beanstalks, but you can't believe in this?" While his hand felt warm against her, she shivered at the breeze that inexplicably blew against her.

"Now you're just messing with me," she said, rolling her eyes. "You told me last dream that you weren't really here. Why change your story now?"

"Because you are beautiful when you're angry at me."

She rolled her eyes, amused that if this was just a dream that he could annoy her just as easily. "Never mind," she said. "I would rather not know."

"Good because you're about to wake up," he said.

She did not even get the chance to say goodbye to her dream version of him_**. **_

_**Big moment coming up in the next chapter…I won't say more. **_


	31. Chapter 31 - Progress

_**I should have finished this earlier. I had good intentions, but school and work got in the way. And then life struck with my kids, Christmas parades, and a chorus concert for my son. I had this chapter written and then tossed it in favor of this one. I hope you enjoy. **_

Emma slammed a hand against the vending machine, her palm stinging from the impact. Frustration seethed through her, more about the current situation in her life than the bag of chips that now hung half in and out of the rack instead of falling so that she could catch it. She knew that if she asked anyone they would buy her all the bags of chips she could want. Granny, who had started sending over care packages of her favorite items, would have peeled the potatoes herself. But Emma had not set out to get the chips, instead knowing she needed a few minutes to walk and stretch her muscles before she started her afternoon of sitting.

David had joined her again, this time bringing work with him. When no results turned up on a damaged car or eyewitnesses, he had taken Emma's advice to pursue the receipts of the businesses around the scene of the attack. From there they hoped to track down people who had been there at about the same time, as maybe one of them had noticed something out of the ordinary. Together they had gone through about fifty of them when she had abruptly stood up and declared it time for her walk.

"Need some change?" asked a voice behind her. "I think I have some."

Emma spun about, her good hand cradling the one she had just smacked against the machine. "Belle?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

Belle smiled sweetly, digging into her purse for some change. "I thought I'd see how you were doing," she said. "Your mother gives us reports at Granny's each morning, but I was hoping to see you. I was worried." She reached out her hand with several quarters and dimes.

"That's very nice of you," Emma said. "Thank you." Emma turned and got the chips that she had wanted, plus the bag behind it. She passed one to Belle.

"How's he doing?" Belle asked, falling in beside her as they walked to the waiting area.

"Not much change," Emma admitted softly. "They are letting me stay in the room almost all the time now. My father's in there now. Elsa, Henry, and my mom have all taken turns sitting there too." She shrugged her shoulders. "I just wish he'd wake up."

Belle slipped her fingers into the bag and sat down with a quiet plop on one of the uncomfortable chairs. "I'm sure he will soon," she said. "I was also wondering what you know about the car that hit him."

"Not much," Emma admitted. "He was unconscious when I got to him. There weren't any witnesses that we know about." She balled up her fist again.

Belle's eyes darted to the doorway and back again, almost looking for a reason not to speak. "I don't know if I should say this," she began, her fingers spreading apart and then back together again on her knees. "You know I have Rumple's car and his other properties right now."

Emma nodded. "I think my father came by to look at his car the day after this happened," she said. "There wasn't any damage to it."

"That's correct," Belle answered. "I have used it a few times, but I don't think he has. I mean I haven't seen him in a while and the car just sits there…"

The woman was trailing off, her sentences not really conveying what she wanted to tell Emma at all. Her teeth slid over her bottom lip, chewing incessantly as she watched the confusion mar Emma's face. "But you see there is something I didn't know about. There is something I didn't tell David."

Emma's eyes narrowed and her brow creased. It was like she was silently begging her to continue.

"Rumple has a lot of properties," Belle explained. "You know that. You're renting one. I kept telling the lawyer that I would take an inventory. But with the shop, the library, helping Elsa go through some of the spell books, records, and…I'm making excuses. See I started earlier this week to go by each of the properties and see who was living there or working there. And a few were vacant."

"Vacant?" Emma asked. "Were they always…"

"I don't know," Belle said. "I really just wanted to get an idea about it. So I went in a few of them and found those to be empty or with a little bit of furniture." She picked a piece of lint off of her skirt, breathing deeply through the stress. "I was over at that yellow house. You know the one next to the school?"

Emma tried to recall what house was next to school and who might have lived there if it was no longer occupied. "Okay," she said slowly. "Yellow house next to the school."

Belle nodded. "It's empty inside. Even the cabinet doors…why would someone…" She paused. "It has a garage," she continued, watching Emma's still confused expression. "There's a car in there. With damage."

Emma hand shot up to her throat. "You are telling me…"

"Yes," Belle interrupted. "I'm not an expert, but it looks like the car." She pursed her lips together and blew out a sharp bit of breath. "Don't ask me what this means. I guess it is possible that Rumple was driving and hid the car. But that doesn't quite feel right. He has very powerful magic. Why wouldn't he just hurt Hook in some magical way? Or if he did hit him with the car, why not fix the car with just a wave of his hand?"

Emma patted her friend's leg twice. "Thank you," she said as sincerely as she could. "Let's go tell my father so he can go over there with you." Standing, she held out an arm so that Belle could pull herself up and the two walked briskly down the hallway past the empty and full rooms to where Killian was still unconscious. Emma stopped for a moment, realizing that a voice was quietly speaking behind the partially closed door. For a moment she felt that hopeful surge that maybe Killian was awake and everything was going to be okay. But then she listened and realized it was just David's voice she was hearing.

Reaching out a hand, she went to open the door, but Belle pulled her back. "No," the brunette whispered, "just wait."

Emma could see her father standing next to the bed, his hands gripping the guard railing. His head was hung and his eyes half closed.

"Hook," David said, unaware that his daughter was in earshot. "I don't know if you can actually hear any of us. So I may just be talking to myself, which is probably going to get me a one way ticket to the mental ward." The man shook his head slightly and gripped the bed's railing tighter. "I don't know what I should be saying because why would you care if I want you to wake up or not. But I can't just sit here and watch you laying there while my daughter…She loves you. I can see that. And I can see that you love her. That's not easy for any father, but especially in this case when I didn't get to raise her or know her until recently. But I think we see some of the same things in her. You and I have that in common."

David's voice had cracked and man swallowed to try to contain the emotions that threatened. "So as a father, I want my daughter to be happy. And as much as I hate being wrong, you're the man who makes her happy. You're the man who makes her smile, laugh, and believe in herself. You're the one who sees her as more than the Savior and more than our daughter. Yes, I'm going to give you a hard time because I worry that you'll do something stupid and screw it up. I also worry that she will screw it up." He swallowed again, looking up from staring at his hands and staring directly at Killian's sleeping face. "But if I'm honest with myself, I know that's not going to happen. You guys are good together. It's not that you won't have hard times or challenges to get through. Those will come more often than you probably want, but they'll make you stronger and the love you share even better. So what I'm trying to say is that you need to wake up. You need to come back to the land of the living here and get back to the woman you love."

Both father and daughter wiped away a tear from their eyes, Belle holding on to Emma's arm. "Maybe we should come back," Belle suggested in a whisper. Emma hung back for a moment as her father sat back down and pulled out another file of receipts. Once he looked like he was back to work, she tapped on the door quietly as though she and Belle had just arrived.

"Hi, Dad," Emma said. "Belle has some information for you."

The conversation was short, interruptions limited and plans put in place quickly. David had driven with Belle to the garage, calling Mary Margaret on the way to see if she could pull together any information about previous tenants from city records. Elsa had offered to come back to the hospital, but Emma had insisted that she stay and help Mary Margaret, as there was little anyone could do just sitting there.

So alone with Killian, she sat in his room and watched him for a few minutes. Her mind ran through the words of her father, but mostly she wondered what she would say to him the moment he woke up to her. She knew it couldn't be much longer. It had to happen soon. Even Dr. Whale had told her that the longer Killian stayed in this condition, the more concerned about brain damage he was becoming. So she set her mind to the fact that it would happen any moment. She could not be dissuaded.

Running out of her ongoing commentary about Henry, school, past adventures, the weather, and even stories about her own past that she thought would amuse him, she pulled her chair up as close to his bed as she could. She lowered the railing on that side of the bed and placed her head next to his torso, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of him.

"I know you're fighting to get back to me, Killian," she said in a soft voice. "Just like I'm fighting to keep it together here. I want you to know that I love you and I won't give up fighting for you. If you're too tired to fight, then you have me to do it. I've sat here over the past few days wondering what I will say to you first. And I don't have an answer for that yet. I don't know that I'll ever be as good at making you feel loved and wanted as you make me feel. Then I realized that I don't have to be good or perfect for you to love me. And the opposite is true too."

She ran her fingers down his arm, tracing invisible lines up and down the skin. "I don't love you because I think you're perfect," she said. "I know better than that. I know that you're stubborn and that you have a bad temper. I know that you get frustrated when you don't pick up something new right away or if someone does something better than you do without really trying. And I know that you worry and feel inadequate because of your hook or because someone made you feel like you weren't worthy of being loved. I know that because I've felt that way about myself. I felt like anyone who loved me was either crazy or trying to pull a con. So when you wake up, Killian, let's make a deal. You and I love each other and accept each other. We stop the second guessing. We stop doubting the sincerity of it. We love each other for who we are and how far we've come."

She turned her head on her bent arm and looked at him, hoping for any sign that he was awake. There was none.

Expelling a loud breath of air, she closed her eyes. Hoping that maybe she would see him in her dreams again. As she warm blanket of sleep enveloped her, she heard the sound she'd waited to hear. Her name was on his lips, hoarse and weak but evident to her ears.

"Emma," he said again, his blue eyes looking at her awkward position. "Emma, wake up."

_**See…he's awake and no he did not lose his memory. Thanks for your patience with me getting this chapter out for you. **_


	32. Chapter 32 - Awakening

_**I'm glad some of you liked the part of David talking to Killian last chapter. I wasn't sure about it, but felt like someone other than Emma should be talking to him. David seemed like a good choice for that. So I wanted him to tell Killian that he does approve of his daughter and the pirate but that he's going to continue being a father and fighting that approval. **_

Emma almost groaned at the intrusion into her sleep, her mind already preparing a complaint about letting her rest. Before her eyes even opened, she took in an irritated breath.

"Love," he said, his voice still hoarse and a bit confused by his location. He slowly lifted his hand and laid it lightly on the sides of her head. "Emma?"

His voice with the familiar accent and the warmth of his fingers finally broke through her drowsy haze. Her eyes flew open and her mouth formed a perfect circle as she jumped up to a sitting position. "Killian," she said in a voice much softer than her emotions would dictate. "Oh my God!"

He was gazing at her with confusion and a tender amusement at her surprise. "Are you alright, love?" he asked, not realizing the irony that he was asking her such a question from his own hospital bed.

"You're awake," she said, stating the obvious. "You're awake and talking. Oh my God!" She was out of her seat in that instant, lunging down to embrace him, pull back to stare at his open eyes, and then back into the embrace again. "I've been waiting…and hoping, but you…I…you're awake."

He groaned a bit with the stiffness of his muscles coming into full force, but managed to return the embrace before she pulled away. One of her hands clung to his arm and the other ran through her hair as she explained that she had to go get the doctor. She backed away from his bed, clinging to him as long as physically possible. Even headed to the doorway, she did not turn from him, clumsily backing herself to the hallway.

Her calls to the staff were answered immediately and a crowd of nurses and technicians scampered into the room and surrounded him. They shouted orders for him to turn his head, lift his legs, and move his fingers. Questions were commanded too, asking about his memory, awareness, and pain level. He answered the best he could between thermometers and breathing tests. His blue eyes kept finding their way to Emma, who refused to leave the room and stood unobtrusively in the corner with growing smile on her face.

The older doctor walked in and pushed aside the staff with a sharp order to disperse. "Give the man a chance to breathe," he told them, both hands on the stethoscope around his neck. "He's just woken up. Would you really want to be faced with all of you after going through that?"

Emma bit back a laugh as the crowd sheepishly apologized and muttered notes on his vital signs to the doctor on their way out the door. "He seems okay, right?" she couldn't help but ask as the doctor stood next to the bed and asked Killian to follow his finger with his eyes.

"For a man who was hit by a car," the doctor said, "and has been unconscious for days, I would say he's in remarkable shape." The doctor gently checked the locations that had been injured and shook his head in disbelief that there were no signs of the trauma. "You're a very lucky man," he told Killian. "I don't know how to explain your recovery at all, but I think perhaps we shouldn't look for explanations for a miracle."

Killian's face grew more confused as the doctor explained some of the injuries and noted their absence. But his hand instinctively intertwined with Emma's fingers after she crossed the room to be at his side. He licked his lips to speak again, wanting to ask so many questions, but Emma did that for him. She asked about any lingering effects, treatments, and even when he could come home. While the doctor was vague, he promised a quick release after a little more observation and testing.

Alone at last, Emma gripped Killian's hand even tighter. "You don't know how glad I am to see you awake," she said softly. "I was so scared that…but you're…Damn it! I can't even talk."

He chuckled at her discomposure. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a bit stronger than before. "I know that you worry about…"

"Don't apologize," she said. "This isn't your fault at all. And I guess I should call my father since he's handling the investigation into who hit you. My mother and Elsa have been freaked out too. They have taken turns along with my father staying overnight here with me. And Henry is going to go nuts to see you awake…Granny sends food and asks about you every day. Belle's been helping and even researched recovery tactics. Leroy and the guys came by to visit. Regina's been here trying to help figure out if there was something my magic could do to wake you up."

He laughed again. "I wouldn't begin to ponder why all those people would even care," he said. "But I'm mostly concerned with you." He licked his bottom lip again. "You look beautiful, love, but you look exhausted too."

She smiled self-consciously. "I've been here every day since this happened," she said with a small shrug. "You got sponge baths and stuff like that. My mother helped arrange it so I could sneak in the showers of the staff lounge. While I'm anxious for you to be home with me, I won't lie. I am so looking forward to a hot shower that is the length of my choosing and my own bed." Leaning down, she kissed him softly, her lips curling into a smile before pulling back. "Kissing you while you're awake is a much better experience," she laughed.

"I should hope so," he responded, that mischievous look in his eyes returning though a bit faded. "How often did you kiss me while I was not aware?"

She swatted at him playfully. "You make it sound like I was taking advantage of you," she admonished. "I was simply trying to wake you up. Don't turn it into me as a predator."

"You say that as though you would offer those services to any patient," he teased back.

Mocking him, she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "Well I tried a few, but it didn't seem to be working. And the nurses got onto me about it when some of the patients' wives and girlfriends complained about my kissing all these men…"

"Well," he said. "I can't blame you for trying. You are the Savior and someone has to do it. But I prefer to be the lone recipient of your lips' attention from now on."

"That's a deal," she said to him, giving him a quick peck in affirmation. "I've missed you. I know you've been right here and I've been within feet of you this entire time, but I've missed hearing your voice or seeing you smile. I've missed your horrible jokes and teasing. I've missed everything about…"

He interrupted her, squeezing her hand gently in his own. "If you won't let me apologize for all this," he said, "at least let me offer my gratitude. Thank you, Emma. I am not sure I know what I have done to earn such attention from you that you would stay with me, but I am thankful for whatever that might be."

Her phone beeped with a message from her father. Reluctantly she pulled her eyes away to read it, her smile fading a bit at the message. She used one hand to type a reply and then shoved it back in the pocket of her jeans. "You've talked many times about the uncomfortable conditions you've slept in," she said a little bit teasingly. "And after our adventure trekking through Neverland, I wouldn't doubt a one of them. But I must say that chair," she pointed over her shoulder, "ranks up there as torture."

"May I apologize for that discomfort?" he asked. When she shook her head to the contrary, he laughed again. "Then may I offer something a bit more comfortable for my princess?" Scooting over he dipped his head to indicate that she should lay next to him.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked. Then realizing the vagueness of the question, corrected herself. "About the past days. Do you remember any of it since…"

He cleared his throat again, relishing the feel of her body next to his and her breath on his collarbone. "I'm afraid that my memories are not very specific," he said. "I remember feeling like I had to wake up and the struggle to make my body cooperate. I don't know the sequence of events, but I remember knowing that you were nearby and wanting to see you and feel you again." She stiffened a bit. "I do have some memories of pain from what I guess were the injuries."

"I wish you didn't remember that," she whispered. "I hated seeing you like that."

"I know," he said in return. "The most profound of my memories of this time was actually the pain going away. It was quite sudden. At first I felt just tiny taps of it leaving me and then I felt just a warm sensation that was like a wave." Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he smiled. "I don't know how to explain it."

"You're awake and better," she said. "That's what counts. And I made a promise to myself and to you that when you…"

"Shhhh…" he said. "We'll talk about it later. I don't think this is the right place or time for a discussion of this level. But we should discuss something important."

She yawned, and then laughed that she could do that at such a moment. "What would that be?"

"My situation," he said, gesturing at the bed, "deprived us of our date. We should remedy that as soon as possible."

Laughing, she placed a tiny kiss on his chest. "As you wish," she told him, smiling at her own joke.

He held her there, both listening to the sound of each breathing. When the weight of her embrace changed, he knew she was asleep. So when David arrived, only moments before Mary Margaret and Elsa, that was where they found them. Killian answered all of their questions the best he could as Emma rested curled up at his side. None of them made mention of it, but the smiles on their faces indicated that they noticed.

_**I didn't make much progress on the whole who ran him down plot with this chapter, but I wanted Killian and Emma to enjoy a quiet moment before all that. I'm working on the next two chapters now (had to have some help with it from a good friend – Wendy). There is a bit of an issue I'm going to deal with in them, but I'm trying to handle it with a little Elsa and a little romantic fluff to make up for the date that never happened. **_


	33. Chapter 33 - Testing

_**Thanks for the reviews and feedback. This chapter and the next were written to deal with some things before we get back to Rumple. **_

Elsa was laughing, the sound of it echoing down the hospital corridor. She held a hand up over her mouth and blushed. "I shouldn't laugh so loud," she told Killian. "I might wake the dead." She sat ramrod straight in one of the uncomfortable chairs, looking every bit as regal as ever in her more modern clothing.

Killian chuckled. "You were the one who wanted to know about that," he said. "I was not going to tell such a colorful story."

Elsa laughed again, but a little softer this time. "I am supposed to be entertaining you," she reminded him. "Emma's trying to talk to your doctors and didn't want you to be bored. So I took that to mean that I should be the one telling the stories, but you're sitting there telling off color stories about pirates and rum."

He shrugged. "She won't let me share those stories with Henry," he said. "I have to tell someone."

"I'm glad your sense of humor is back," she said sincerely. "You had us all scared for a while."

"Yes, he did," Emma agreed from the doorway. Crossing the room, she kissed his cheek and pushed him away when he tried to do more. "Not in front of Elsa," she chided, laughing louder when he suggested that Elsa could leave the room for a moment.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed, her back to his feet and turned to face her friend and roommate. "Belle said you've made some progress," she said. "I'm sorry I haven't…"

The blonde waved off her apology and smiled. "It's not much of a development," she said. "But when your father was going through the car at the garage he found some papers that seem to mention and exchange between Rumpelstiltskin and a former guard from back home."

"What was exchanged," Emma asked.

"We're not sure," Elsa replied. "But Belle has been looking at some of the other documents from that same time period. She's very hopeful that she can figure it out."

Killian grimaced as Emma punched a bending straw through the cap of a cup and pushed it to his lips. "That stuff is bloody awful," he said.

Emma persisted. "It's juice," she told him. "You complain about the water. You don't like the protein shakes that they prepared for you. Now you're complaining about the juice. You do realize that they aren't going to let you drink rum from your hospital bed."

Taking a small sip, he frowned again and swallowed with exaggerated agony. "Bloody awful," he repeated. "Can't you sneak me something from Granny's? The two of you have some pretty powerful magic. Couldn't one of you conjure up something a bit more delightful than whatever is in that juice?"

"You are cute when you beg," Emma said, pulling the cup away. "It's adorable actually, which I know you hate. You want everyone to fear you and worry about displeasing you, but I've seen that you can be cute and sweet when you want to be."

His cheeks showed the embarrassment of her comment, but his eyes were still teasing. "Shhh…" he said, shaking his head. "Not in front of Elsa."

Watching the two of them, Elsa stood up and pulled her bag over her shoulder. "You two are both adorable," she declared. "And I doubt either of you want your enemies to know that." She hugged them both and headed out the door with a promise she would see them later.

With a strength that shouldn't have been there for a man just hit by a car, he yanked Emma down to him bruising her mouth with a searing kiss. "I've been waiting too long to do that," he said unapologetically when they parted. "This hospital is hell on my plans to enjoy you, Swan."

"Then you might want to know that Dr. Whale just agreed that you're going to be a free man tomorrow," she said with a bright smile. "I tried to convince him that today is better, but he refused."

"You are falling down on your negotiating skills, Swan," he teased. "But I admit I'm looking forward to going home."

She placed the cup on his bedside table and pulled his blanket up a little. "They are supposed to come take you for another test in a few minutes," she said. "And I'm going to do something rather shocking while you're busy."

"Just what might that be?" he asked raising an eyebrow in question to her.

"I'm going to leave for a while. I am going to go take a shower, make sure everything is all ready for you, and maybe even have a snack with my son that doesn't come out of a hospital vending machine." She laughed as he smiled at her. "I didn't think you'd be happy to hear that I was abandoning you."

"To the contrary," he said. "I think it is high time you took care of yourself. Everyone tells me how much you have done here. I'd be a selfish man to prevent you from doing something for yourself."

"I love you," she said simply, allowing them the indulgence of one more kiss before he was summoned for his test.

It was the first time since that night that she had worn her coat, but wrapping it around herself felt good against the brutal cold of the day. She slid into the truck next to her father and road the few blocks to her apartment. Waving him off from helping, she turned her key in the lock and smelled the familiar scents of home.

Her hair was still damp from the shower that even she admitted was a bit overindulgent and costly to the hot water supply. She'd started a load of laundry, put fresh sheets on the bed, and even started a grocery list of items to pick up at the store. She was sipping from a bottle of water as Elsa came in, smiling as she sat down at the table too.

"I'll take care of that," she promised, pulling the list from Emma's hand and studying it. "You want that much Jell-O?" she asked.

Emma laughed and nodded. "He thinks it is the same as medicine," she said. "I don't have the heart to tell him it's just a bland dessert."

Continuing to read the list, Elsa made a few notes and added a few items of her own. "I'll pick it all up today and it will be here when you get back."

"Thanks," Emma said, glancing around the apartment thoughtfully. "I know I told him that I was fine about leaving him there to come get some things done…"

"You really want to get back there, don't you?" Elsa asked. "I can tell. Besides, none of us have convinced you to leave at all. You're kind of stubborn about that."

The sunlight coming in the windows was deceptive with its warmth, as a cool draft spun through the crevices and made Emma shiver. She took another sip of her water and glanced at Elsa. "If you don't have time, I can go. There's something else I need to pick up anyway." Her face reddened a bit as she said it. "I…"

"I can get whatever it is," Elsa said firmly. "It is the least I can do. You go pick up Henry and I'll do the shopping. What else should I add to the list?"

Emma shook her head, gripping the bottle with both hands. "I don't want you to go to that trouble," she said, finding the excuse flimsy. "I just needed to get…Don't worry about it." Her long fingers tore at the paper label on the bottle.

Elsa glanced at her curiously. "Emma?" she asked. "What is it?"

Frowning, Emma began to shred the label, bits of paper and glue littering the table. "I'm not sure or anything," she said softly. "I mean…what I…"

"Emma, whatever it is, just tell me," Elsa said. "You are starting to freak me out."

Emma took a deep breath, pulling one long string of the paper in her hands. "I need something from the pharmacy," she said. "I don't want to get it in Storybrooke. There are too many people who….though I really just need to get it." She bit her lip, waiting for Elsa to pick up on it. But the other woman didn't. Emma realized this was another thing that was lost in the translation between realms. "I need a pregnancy test from the pharmacy. So see, that's why I should just go and get it."

Elsa's eyes bulged with surprise and her mouth dropped open. "Oh my," she managed to say. "Are you?"

"I don't know," Emma said. "That's why I need to pick one up. I'm late, but I'm not sure. It could be stress or a million other things." She put her eyes on a particularly stuck section of the paper. "I haven't said anything to anyone because I don't know."

"I won't tell anyone," Elsa assured her, reaching out a hand to stop Emma's destruction. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Emma smiled weakly. "I just want to know."

About an hour and a half later Henry had gobbled up his snack and proceeded to tell her about the last few days at school, sparing no details of every class, assignment or conversation. She listened to him, offering answers, and smiling when she could. She realized as he ran to greet Robin and Roland that she was very lucky to have him as a son. While most people she knew complained about their children at that age, she was enjoying every moment of him. He was thoughtful and caring, if not a bit sneaky. Still, his worst behavior often had the best of intentions.

Sliding back into the booth with his mother, he suggested that he help her cook the following night upon Killian's return. He was telling her about learning to make Regina's lasagna and some sort of stew that Robin swore was the best food of any realm.

"You're a pretty good kid," she told him, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Magic I guess," Henry answered, pulling back his hand with two of her fries. "Maybe Killian would want to watch a movie? I could go through the collection and see…"

Emma smiled. "It's going to be his first day home from the hospital," she reminded him. "He is going to be a little weak still so let's not overdo it."

Henry agreed reluctantly and finished his ramblings before rushing out to join his grandmother at her office. He had offered to help her with the baby during a meeting, which Emma had readily agreed was very mature for a 12 year old. No sooner had the door closed behind him than Elsa slid in through the same entrance.

She thrust a bag at her friend, grinning nervously. "Mission accomplished," she said. "That dwarf at the pharmacy thinks it was for me so there will be rumors, but I got it."

"Elsa," Emma said, shoving the thin plastic bag in her purse. "I told you I'd get it."

"I told you I would be happy to help," she said.

_**To be continued**_


	34. Chapter 34 - Home

_**One more chapter here before we get back to the mystery. Emma's finally going to take that dang pregnancy test and she and Killian are going to enjoy their "date" they missed. This chapter is a little long, but I didn't want to break it up and drag this out. I need to get to the other stuff. **_

"Are you listening to me?" her father asked, his hand waving in front of her face. "Emma?"

"I'm here," she mumbled. It was a mistake. At least she could admit that now. She had done everything that she had planned on doing, the cleaning, the shower, snack with Henry, and now she was sitting at her desk at the station and pretending to listen as her father discussed paint samples and tire tracks in terms of forensics. It was disconcerting to say the least. "I don't understand why we are doing it this way," she admitted. "Why not go get Regina to do some kind of locator spell or make the bad guy glow or something?"

Her father chuckled. "You do realize that not everything can be solved with magic," he said. "Oh how the tables have turned. You are the one who usually has to tell me that." He tapped his capped pen on the edge of the paper. "Why aren't you at the hospital?"

She shrugged. "I'm not required to be there," she said, pressing her lips into a firm line. His bemused look annoyed her. "Seriously, I'm not. And he might have called and said for me to hang out a bit before coming back because he was…"

Handing her a sheet from the report, David stifled a laugh. "So you came to hang out with your dad?"

She'd actually come here for the restroom, hoping to take the test that was currently in her purse. It seemed easier than trekking the few blocks from Granny's back home, but so much for plans. Her father had been right there and might notice his daughter carrying a purse into the restroom and staying in there for minutes reading instructions and waiting for results.

Her phone beeped and she leapt for it, knocking over her purse in the process. David did not stifle his laugh this time, as she practically threw herself on the phone to answer with a breathless hello and a not very convincing, "Nothing. What about you?"

About an hour later she was back at the hospital, happily surprised that Killian was greeting her in the hallway. Just as prescribed by his doctors, he was walking laps around the hallway. He greeted her with a bright smile, showing off his dimples as though he had just completed some magnificent task. She forgot about the childlike way he could act sometimes, seeking her approval so valiantly and eagerly lapping up any sign of it she managed to give. It was one of the few areas of his life that seemed untouched by centuries of revenge.

"You look much better and very happy," she said with a quick kiss to his cheek. "And you feel very warm." Her hands were cold against his warm skin, but he did not shirk away. Instead, he gathered both of her hands in his and blew streams of warm air on them as their foreheads touched. She laughed, finally pulling her hands away. "I think we may be grossing out the nursing staff. Too much affection."

Peeling off her coat, she began to walk toward his room, only for him to pull her back to him. "Wait," he told her, smoothing the lines of confusion on her brow with a kiss. "I need to ask you something."

She sighed, looking at him suspiciously. He was up to something, his eyes and the way they danced even under the florescent lights told her that. She wanted to ask him what was his game plan, question him on what medication he had taken, or even if he was running a fever. But she restrained herself and looked at him expectantly.

"We missed out chance for an evening out with all that happened," he said. "So I thought we might have an evening here."

She blinked twice, her confusion returning. "You're asking me on a date in the hospital?" she asked. "Seriously?"

"It isn't the most opportune time or the best setting," he admitted, "but we must take advantage of the moments we have together. And this qualifies, does it not?"

She wanted to laugh, wondering how on earth he managed to think of this and pull it off. But she shook her head. "I can't believe you," she said. "You're supposed to be recovering and getting back to normal. And you're spending your time thinking about a date with me?"

"What else would I think about other than something to make you this happy?" he asked with no hint of joking in his voice. Holding out his arm, he smiled as she linked her own through it and winked at her as she looked up at him.

"You always do that," she said, following him to the closed door. "You manage to make any moment that is supposed to be about you about me too. So show me what you've done."

He let her walk in first, chuckling as she stopped dead in her tracks. While there was no mistaking it was still a hospital room, obvious time and effort had gone into his date night plan. A small round table sat where the uncomfortable chair had been, two metal bistro chairs flanking it. Two plates with real silverware decorated the table, along with three long stem roses and candles. An ice bucket sat near the table with a bottle of what Emma had to pick up and read was grape juice. While the candles flickered and glowed, she realized that they were actually battery powered flameless models – appropriate for a hospital.

She turned around to face him where he stood in the doorway. "Pretty nice," she said. "You went to a lot of effort. Now, you have been up long enough. At least come here and sit down." He walked as elegantly as he could with an IV pole, offering to seat her first, but she refused. "You're still the patient," she reminded him. "And I get to take care of you for a change."

Emma poured the grape juice for them, commenting that it was more elegant to drink it that way rather than out of plastic cups with straws. She giggled uncontrollably when she saw the sophisticatedly covered dishes in front of them did not contain the steak or lobster one would expect on a date night meal. Instead it was Granny's meatloaf and mashed potatoes with a side of peas. Raising and eyebrow at him, he blushed.

"Obviously I had to obtain assistance in coordinating this," he admitted. "When I called to Granny's to ask about your whereabouts, Ruby may have mentioned that you were discussing meal plans with Henry and this very meal seemed to be one of your first choices."

"It goes well with the wine…I mean grape juice," she said, trying to contain her laughter a bit. "I'm touched that you would try to provide what I want. Really, I am."

He smiled at her, watching her close her eyes at the taste of the food on her plate. He couldn't help but remind her that it was hardly a culinary masterpiece, but she explained that she'd always had a soft spot for the meal since to her it symbolized family and togetherness that she had lacked. It was one of the few truly honest things she said of her past, preferring to leave it to words like hard or difficult. He never pressured her to offer more than that, but always welcomed it when she did.

He was chewing thoughtfully, listening to her prattle on about her day. When she stopped, dropping her fork to her plate and pushing the plate away from her, he looked at her quizzically. "What's wrong?" he asked, assuming it to be the food or something he said or didn't say.

"I'm not sure how you always manage to do this," she said softly. "You're the one in the hospital and yet you're the one making me feel better. It's…"

He laughed as she twisted her face in confusion. "What is it, love?"

"I found it annoying at first," she admitted, taking another sip of the juice. "When we first met I could have slapped you for how you knew exactly what to say to get under my skin. I couldn't tell if you were trying to flirt with me or distract me by infuriating me." She giggled a bit at his attempt at an innocent reaction. "Then I went from being annoyed at you to annoyed with myself. I knew that you were trying to get my attention and trying to flirt, but I hated that I fell for it every time. I hated that I would start looking for you if you weren't there. I hated that I was trying to come up with reasons to talk to you. I thought I was smarter than that."

"Did I cause you that much grief?" he asked playfully.

"Yes," she confirmed without hesitation. "You distracted me all the time. And you made me feel like a teenager coming up with excuses to see you or include you in on things." She blushed. "It got to the point that my family and everyone else started noticing too. I hate being called out on things that I thought were private."

He chuckled. "You were quite vexing yourself," he said, pointing his fork at her. "Every time I thought I'd made some inroads with you, earned a smile, a touch, or a compliment, you squashed it all by running in the opposite direction. I would get so exasperated by you that I would promise myself that I wouldn't try again, only to see you soon after I fall back into trying to make you smile."

She smiled at him then, ignoring the questions and doubt that still tainted her mind. If he enjoyed her smile, she could at least offer him that. On paper that seemed simple, but to her it was more complicated. A smile was a window into what she was thinking and feeling. While he did not need such a window, it made her feel vulnerable. "Amazing that we managed to get past pissing each other off long enough to realize we might be good together," she said.

"Might?" he questioned.

"Are good together," she corrected. "But for the record, you still annoy me sometimes."

His laughter came easier now. "And you, me," he added.

***AAA***

Emma had warned her parents that Killian would not want a homecoming party. Though she had not asked him straight out, she knew instinctively that he was hoping for a quiet re-entry into life without the pomp and circumstance of social interaction. So while David drove Killian and Emma back to the apartment and Mary Margaret assisted with the cooking that Henry and Emma had planned, neither one made any plans to invite any other resident over to welcome him back.

Everyone at the apartment had bitten their tongues as Emma had ushered him in, refusing to let him lift a finger. She was attentive and caring, but according to Henry and Elsa she was also bossy and somewhat intimidating. Killian had seemed amused by it all, shaking his head as she refilled his glass, offered him pillows, and done everything but cut the meat on his plate to make him comfortable. When dinner was done, she was ushering him into the bedroom and telling him that he needed his rest.

Most of the conversation had been light, David only offering simple statements about the state of the investigation. He did not tell them of the fears Regina had that Rumple had found a way to strengthen his power and his magic. And Emma avoided the subject of her feelings that Rumple was playing some sort of twisted game with them to stay hidden.

"He's not a toddler," Henry said when Emma emerged to find that her parents and baby brother were already gone. "Maybe you should back off a bit." Henry collapsed onto the couch next to Elsa, holding a game controller in one hand and a sugary soda drink in the other.

Emma removed both and placed them on the table. "Don't you have homework?" she asked, ignoring his comments. "I let you stay home to welcome Killian back, so there must be something you need to study."

Henry rolled his eyes, arms folded across the chest. "Can't a kid have a day off around here?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he stood up and grabbed his backpack off the back of the chair and carried it to his bedroom. "I'd say it was nice to be home, but seriously this kind of sucks."

Elsa smiled at him sympathetically. "You okay?" she asked, Emma.

Kicking off her shoes and putting her feet on the coffee table, Emma crossed her ankles. "I've been better," she admitted. "Am I being that bad?"

Elsa's expression softened more. "You are glad he's back home and not in the hospital," she reasoned. "And you are taking care to make sure he doesn't have to return. I get it."

Emma shrugged. "I haven't…"

Elsa nodded. "I know."

Emma glanced toward the bedroom door. "I'll do it tomorrow."

***AAA***

There is something about a lazy Sunday afternoon that Emma had always enjoyed, the lack of hurry, the way the sun seemed softer, the soft hum of B-movies on a television that nobody was watching. And now with her son curled up explaining the plot of some obscure horror movie to Killian and Elsa thumbing through the advertisements in the newspaper, Emma felt that sense of calm come over her. If anyone had walked in at that moment, they would have laughed at their casual attire of sweatshirts, pajama pants, and thick fuzzy socks. Practically empty bowls held the remnants of popcorn and chips.

"We really should clean up," she mentioned to them, eliciting no response.

Henry was the only one who seemingly noticed, but the 12-year-old snuggled under the throw blanket and explained to Killian for the third time that it was the radioactivity in the movie that had turned the earth worms into killer creatures. He was so animated and excited about the subject, his hands flying with his words and his laughter easy as Killian's questions peppered him.

She could see a bit of Neal in him at that moment. Neal, who hated to show emotion almost as much as she did, always found pleasure in some incomprehensible plot. And despite the fact that she would have walked out on theses movie 10 minutes in, she would always succumb to his enthusiasm for it. By the end she was rolling her eyes, laughing at his descriptions, snark, and commentary. It made her wonder how her son, who had only seen and been around his father a handful of times, could have picked up such a trait.

Henry was a perfect combination of all the family in his life. He was trusting and hopeful, like Mary Margaret. He was loyal and determined like David. He was fiercely stubborn and noble like Regina. And she could even see in him her own desire to help others and be the hero. It seemed amazing to her that the baby she had carried for nine months and placed for adoption was a real person. Even more amazing was his ability to be a person she liked and loved beyond just his being her son.

Even before Regina had given her the memories of motherhood, she had wondered if she could have done it. Could she have raised him? Physically it would have been tough with feedings, diapers, teething, colic, nightmares, first days of school, imaginary friends, and all of that. She knew she was tough enough to have done it, but that did not fully answer the question.

He was a living and breathing reminder of another time in her life. He was a souvenir of the girl she had been and the life she had left behind. Could she have gotten past the bitterness of Neal's abandonment to have been a mother to their child? She did not have an answer for that. She was aware that Neal had not known of her pregnancy. Though she could not answer if that knowledge have changed things. And she was well aware of the irony that a girl so scarred by the foster care system would place her own child into it.

When Henry called her mom she always got a feeling of love in her heart, but one of guilt as well. She did not feel like she had earned that moniker. She had not been there for him. She had not paid the price for him.

And now she was wondering if she could do it this time. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to imagine what she would do. It would be different, certainly. She was older. She was not in jail. And Killian would, she knew, stand by her. But was that enough? Could she subject a child to her? Could she trap Killian into a life so unlike the one he had led just because she hadn't remembered to pull out a condom?

Opening her eyes, she saw Elsa smile at her. Her friend's sympathy evident as the guys continued to discuss radioactivity, this time in other movies that Henry's limited experience could remember. Bracing both hands on the arms of the chair, she pushed herself up to standing. "I'm going to go take a shower," she announced, again eliciting absolutely no response.

She closed the door behind her and turned the water of the shower on full blast. Whipping the test package out from behind the towels where she had hidden it, she ripped open the packaging and stared at the instructions. Why were there so many instructions for what seemed a very intuitive device? Throwing down the paper, she managed to use the test and lie it down on a tissue. Those stupid instructions must say how long it would take. How many minutes?

She picked up the test in her trembling hand, and after reading the directions three times, she now waited. In three minutes, she would know her future. She had been making excuses about the bouts of nausea. She wasn't sure that anyone was buying her excuses about stress anymore, and neither was she. She didn't know why she had waited so long to take a test. She didn't know what to think, or what to do. She didn't know how Killian would react. If the test was positive, she would freak out. But if it was negative…could she celebrate?

She checked her watched again. "Damn it! What is it about pregnancy tests that make a minute seem like an hour?" she mumbled to herself.

She set the test back on the tissue and stripped out of her clothing. She would take a shower, she told herself. She would distract herself and pretend like the results didn't matter. Shakily she stepped into the steam of the shower, emerging only a few moments later with the scent of her lavender body wash assailing her senses.

Wrapped in the thick towel, she picked up the narrow test from the bathroom sink where it rested and closed her eyes as she brought it closer. Peeking at the test, she saw only one line – negative - and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

_**It was never really part of my plan to have Emma pregnant at this stage, but after I posted the chapter where they finally had sex I realized I had them use no protection. So I decided to use it in the story about her addressing some of her thoughts about giving Henry up for adoption. Rather than an unplanned pregnancy, I wrote it as a pregnancy scare with her unsure about what she wanted the result to be. **_

_**At some point she and Killian will discuss that, but I think they have enough on their plates right now. Plus I want them to enjoy their lives together a little more before we start adding babies. Not to mention poor Elsa would lose her room at the apartment if they need a nursery. **___


	35. Chapter 35 - Key

_**Not much CS in this chapter, but hope you enjoy anyway. **_

She stood there with her father on her left, peering into the tiny sphere that Belle had placed in front of them. Her face was carefully controlled, revealing none of the sickening images and emotions that swirled within her. Killian had been oddly silent when she told him that she had to leave to do this, his expression a mixture of hurt and fear.

"You're always protecting me, love," he told her when she leaned in to kiss him goodbye. "When are you going to let someone protect you?"

Regina sucked in a sharp breath, her hand reaching out for the object and then snapping back quickly. "Are we sure that this thing will even work in this realm?" she asked. "I know that in the Enchanted Forest…"

"We have to try," David stated, echoing his daughter's internal thoughts. "Gold is out there some place. He's likely hatching another plan as we speak. We can't just sit here waiting for him to strike again."

Belle took a step back from the table, her hands clutching the brownish cloth that the ball had been wrapped in for all this time. "I saw him use it here once," she admitted. "He simply held it up toward that window over there." She pointed to the east side of the shop. "All I could see was mist, but he was seeing something."

Emma was the first to pick it up, both hands taking turns to weigh it and smooth over its surface. "A freaking crystal ball," she said, mostly to herself. "I should have known."

Belle cringed as Emma placed the object back on its stand a little roughly. "I understand if you don't want to use it. It's a bit scary to me too." The brunette shuffled from one foot to the other, not looking up from the table to meet the eyes of the others in the room. "But we've tried locator spells and everything else that Regina can think of to no avail."

"Belle's right," David agreed. "We have to find him. If that means consulting a crystal ball…"

Regina reached her hand out again, running a single finger nail down the smooth surface. "Don't look at me," she chastised the group. "I am a woman who deals in mirrors, incantations, and fire. I don't do fortune telling acts."

Emma snorted inelegantly, folding her arms across her chest. "We're not looking for lotto numbers," she said. "We're looking for Rumpelstiltskin. And I would like to remind you that he's just as dangerous to you as the rest of us. If he's sucking up power and magic into that hat, how long before he gets to you?"

With an acquiescent noise from her throat, Regina looked to Belle expectantly. "Fine, what do we do here?"

"All I know is what I told you," Belle said. "I'm not sure if there is some mantra or incantation that goes with it. My research on the subject is limited."

David's fingers touched the ball himself, feeling its surface and then retracting like it bit him. "Regina, surely you know what to do," he said. "You're the one who had us perform that séance to talk to your mother."

"A séance for the departed is a very different undertaking," Regina explained. "We know that a dead person's soul is in a limited number of places. As far as we know, the Dark One is still alive. That means he could be in a dozen different realms that I know about. To locate him would mean some really powerful magic. I'm not sure that there is anything that powerful in this realm."

Emma cleared her throat. "Not to sound too much like my mother, but the best we can do is hope and try. So who wants to do it?"

Regina closed her eyes, taking the ball in her hand. Securing both palms over it, she walked to the window Belle had indicated and held it up to the light. When nothing happened, she lowered it back to her waist and grumbled. "I knew this was stupid."

Emma brushed past her, practically ripping the ball from her hands and holding it up to the light again. Internally she thought of the man she knew, his conniving and devious ways, the danger he posed, and the way that Henry held out hope that he was a good man at heart. Seeing nothing in the ball at first, she almost did the same as Regina, but the warmth of magic tingled in her hands.

"Emma?" her father asked, taking a step toward his daughter and pausing. "What do you see, Emma?"

She let the energy grow within her before she stared up on the ball again, watching the reddish fog disperse. There he sat in a darkened room, his expression angry and sad at the same time. Behind him was some sort of metal, but Emma had never seen it before then.

"Emma?" She wasn't sure whose voice was calling her. "Emma?"

The image faded, and her hands cooled around the sphere. Lowering it, she turned to face the audience of three behind her. "I saw him," she said in a whisper. "He's definitely in this world. I'm just not sure where that is."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret moved the items on the tray, picking up a mug of cider and trying to make it fit. She knew it was overkill, but she had agreed to do this and was going to do it well. Emma had insisted that Killian continue to take it easy, even shuddering at the idea of him going to Granny's for lunch. So when David had insisted that she was needed in the search for Gold, she had enlisted her mother's help.

"That seems a bit much," Killian said from the couch. "I could have made my own sandwich."

She twisted her face into that of a caring parent, balancing the tray in her hands and making her way to the couch. "We're talking about my daughter's instructions," Mary Margaret explained, setting it down amongst the books that Belle had brought, the magazines from Granny, and the comic books from Henry. "You're lucky she doesn't have me spoon feeding you. And she might have considered that if she didn't know I also have an infant to care for in the midst of this."

Killian chuckled, looking mildly interested at the assortment. "What all is that?"

Mary Margaret used her index fingers to point to the bounty. "We've got chicken broth, crackers, a sandwich, a little pasta salad, graham crackers, water, apple cider, and a pain pill. Nobody expects you to eat it all. It's just an assortment to get you through the afternoon since I have to get back to work." She handed him the remote control. "You're on your own this afternoon. Emma should be back sooner or later and Henry will be back by 3. Elsa is having dinner with us tonight so…"

"I get a reprieve for a few hours?" Killian answered hopefully.

"Only if you agree to keep up my cover," Mary Margaret responded. "Emma asked that I stay here today. But I can tell you're over the 24/7 nursing care. So here's the deal. I'm going back to the office with the baby. You're going to sit here and be a couch potato." Chuckling at his confused expression, she explained the term. "It's just and expression. When Emma comes home or Henry arrives, you explain that I was called away just moments ago and you haven't been alone all afternoon."

"You're going to lie to your daughter?" Killian asked, feigning a look of shock.

"I could call David," she reminded him. "He could sit here and ask you questions about your sex life and intentions toward Emma. I think you'd rather have some alone time."

***AAA***

"What the hell is going on?" Emma asked, trailing after her father as he sprinted past the library and toward Granny's. "What did the text say?" She panting, her hair blowing behind her as they ran face first into the wind. Splotches of color painted her skin and her chest ached from the cold fast breaths of air. "Seriously!"

David slowed a bit, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Elsa's found something about her sister," he said, his breath not as labored as his daughter's. "We have to help her."

Clutching her side with her hand, Emma nodded. "Okay give me a second."

David smiled. "I could comment about you being out of shape," he said in a teasing tone.

"You're smarter than that," she muttered. "I'm a little out of practice here and still recovering from a sprained ankle. Where is she? What did the text say?" She put hands on both her knees and drew in a breath, groaning at the sharp pain of doing so.

"She said she'd meet us behind Granny's," he told her, holding up the phone. "Something about finding a key."

When her breathing was no longer as loud and obvious, he took off again with her running behind him. She was already thinking about logging extra hours at the gym when they both skidded to a stop in front of Elsa. "What's going on here?" David demanded of her.

The blonde woman turned sharply, her face paler than Emma had seen it. "Belle found this in the trunk of his car," she said, holding the key between her fingers. "Why would he have a key to Ingrid's shop?" Her fingers shook as she handed the cold metal key to Emma. "I don't understand."

Emma palmed the key, turning it over and looking at the scratched surface. "This was in Gold's car?" she asked, trying to understand the situation. "Which car?"

Elsa shrugged. "The one he drives all the time," she explained. "Belle had given me some of the locater potion and so I used it on the key to figure out where it belonged. I know we're just supposed to use it for finding a person, but you do realize there are hundreds of locks in this town." She frowned. It led me here and the key slides in the lock there."

David touched the doorknob with his gloved hand, drawing it back sharply. "It is locked," he said. "And frozen solid."

"What makes you think your sister is in there?" Emma asked. "I mean I realize it's odd that Gold would have a key…"

Elsa looked down at her other hand, still clutching several papers. "I know that Gold made a trade with one of the guards who worked at the palace. According to this, he acquired two valuable items that Ingrid was keeping safe for him. And that would be here…"

_**This was plot written prior to the latest two episodes. So I apologize for going off what happened. I just couldn't rework it to make the show's story fit in this case. **_


	36. Chapter 36 - Loving

_**As I said in the previous chapter. I didn't go with the show's version of rescuing Anna. But I didn't want to dwell on it either. So here you go. **_

Emma glanced into the rearview mirror of the squad car, seeing Elsa excitedly embracing her sister. Both Anna and Kristoff are talking at once, excitedly spitting out broken sentences that the other finishes or interrupts. While Emma is confused and unsure of the context and references, Elsa nods along and even asks probing questions. It is amusing, Emma thought, and a true definition of family when Elsa refuses to allow Anna the chance to apologize because everything is already forgotten and forgiven.

Anna and Kristoff were both confused by the new world they found themselves in, but they quickly embraced David at the station. David seemed to know how to take in the fast-paced speech of Elsa's sister with a laugh and a short answer before she is at it again. Elsa just stared proudly and clutched her sister's arm, afraid to let her go after all that time apart.

"For being recently thawed out you guys look remarkable," David said, calling his wife to bring supplies to the station.

Anna smiled at the statement, continuing her questions and comments about how warm the station is without any sign of a fireplace. Her confusion grew as Emma attempted to explain the idea of central heat which led to discussions of electricity, lights, and other technology that was of course overwhelming. David intervened to discuss housing arrangements, explaining that there was no known portal to return the royal family back home.

"We're stuck here?" Anna asked, pausing for an answer for the first time in an hour. "No way home?"

Elsa gripped her sister's arm tighter. "Not yet," she explained softly. "But I promise it isn't that horrible. The people here are very nice and the accommodations are convenient and luxurious in their own way."

Slipping out of the room as the conversation turned to modes of transportation, Emma made a phone call to Killian from the hallway. While he wasn't always keen on technological devices, she was happy that he answered on the second ring and did not seem surprised that it was her voice greeting him.

"Your picture pops up when you call," he reminded her. "Whom else should I expect it to be?"

"That used to confuse you," she reminded him with a hint of pride in her voice. She told him briefly of their adventure and find, approaching the subject of his health and ability to come out with them for a group dinner. He jumped at the chance, declaring himself bored and ready for a change of scenery.

"You're letting me out for the evening?" he asked.

"I'll loosen the knots a little," she laughed.

***AAA***

Anna, Emma had decided, was tiring. She never seemed to lack for energy, questions, comments, and hugs. As someone who rarely accepted physical affection, Emma made a conscious effort to avoid the woman who hugged her when she tasted her dinner, hugged her when she heard the music from the juke box, and hugged her yet again when Emma mentioned that Elsa lived with her. Even Killian had not been immune, as he was hugged for explaining how the diner worked, introducing her to Granny and Ruby, and again when she found out that he too lived at the apartment.

"She's really perky," Henry had said, plopping down next to his mother. "There are cheerleaders with less pep." The young boy swiped a few fries of his mother's plate, kissed her cheek, and rushed over to join his grandfather to listen to stories from Anna and Kristoff.

"She's just so excited about everything," Mary Margaret said, taking a sip of water. "But she is very different than Elsa."

"Hard to picture them as sisters," Emma admitted. She shot a smile over at her brother sleeping in his carrier and wondered just how different they would be as siblings. Sure the age thing was a big difference, as was the fact that he was being raised by his parents instead of the revolving door of foster parents. But would they have any commonality or bond? She tried to picture herself talking to him, sharing things, playing games, but it seemed a bit too much for her imagination. "You sure you're okay having them stay with you?" she asked her mother.

"I don't think I could possibly separate David from them now," she laughed, looking over at her husband who was more animated than ever as he swapped stories with his former friends. "It'll just be for a few nights. We'll figure out what to do."

Emma nodded. "I guess you're used to crowded conditions by now," she commented. "Good thing you don't have your daughter and grandson crashing there anymore."

Mary Margaret turned her attention back to Emma. "You know that I would have loved for you to have stayed," she said. "You didn't have to move out. We would have made it work."

"I know," Emma said. "But it was crowded and I…"

"And you wanted to live with Killian?" Mary Margaret finished, eyes sparkling. "Oh come on. You moved out pretty fast when things started to get serious."

"He's not the reason," Emma said. "I'm an adult and needed to live like one."

Mary Margaret gave her daughter a knowing smile and nodded to where Killian was currently engrossed in a conversation with one of the former members of his crew. "It's okay to admit that it was a motivation," her mother said. "I'm actually proud of you."

"For what?"

The brunette bit her lip and sat thoughtfully for a moment. "Is it really that hard for you?" she asked, drawing a blank stare from her daughter. "You're so different from the person I first met when you came to Storybrooke. Back then you were all bravado and a take charge kind of person. You may have felt hurt or confused about Henry and how Regina was treating you, but you rarely showed it. It was inspiring and a bit frightening at the same time. And then as time went on and you broke the curse, you began to open up more and more. Sometimes it was just to tell me to back off. But you let us know that you were hurting or that you were excited or that you missed Henry. And now you're…"

Emma stifled a nervous laugh. "And now what?"

"You're even more open than ever," Mary Margaret continued. "You used to be so closed off about how you felt about anyone but Henry. But now you're in love and people know it."

Rolling her eyes, Emma laughed shortly. "I'm not sure that I'm all that comfortable with people knowing my business, but this is a small town. It is hard to be in a relationship without everyone jumping in and making comments."

Mary Margaret laughed too. "I get that you're private about things," she said. "It's not a bad thing to be that way. I just wanted to say that I think it is great that you're coming out of your hiding spot a little. You're letting us see the real you. And the real you is pretty great."

"And you got all that from me asking my boyfriend to move in with me?"

Mary Margaret took another sip of water and twisted the glass in her hands. "No," she said. "Not exactly. But it is an example of how far you've come. The old you would have been scared to do that. And I know that you still have that inside of you. But you've come pretty far. You pushed that feeling aside and let him in.

Taking another sip, she looked down at her hands. "You're doing the same with your family. David and I hoped that when we got to see you again after 28 years that you'd understand why we had to send you away. We hoped that you would forgive us. It hasn't been an easy thing for you. I wish I could have changed that. I wish I could have been with you to protect you and to love you. I wish you hadn't had to go to foster homes. I wish you could have known that you were wanted and loved."

"I know," Emma said softly. "I know that you both did what you knew was right."

"That doesn't make it easier," Mary Margaret said. "You grew up thinking that your parents abandoned you. You never knew how anyone could love you as much as we did and still do. And maybe I was wrong. Maybe I pushed too hard to have this instant family bond with you. It was too much too fast. But maybe now I have a little more hope that you do understand or are beginning to understand that we do love you."

Emma closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the baby blanket that sat in a box in the bottom drawer of her dresser. She used to look at it as a child and feel anger for parents who had deserted her. But there was also a part of her that wondered where it had come from. Parents who planned to abandon a baby rarely have the child's name embroidered on a blanket. Despite herself, she had focused on that hope more than a few times growing up. "I do understand," Emma said. "I do love you and my father. That's the easy part sometimes. I'm not that emotionally stunted that I can't love. It's the accepting that you or anyone can love me in return. I never really learned to accept myself that way. But I'm trying."

***AAA***

Emma threw the jacket that Henry had dropped on the living room floor at the wall and sighed. Living at her parents had been difficult, but Mary Margaret had a knack for keeping the place clean and tidy. They had to because of the small space. Emma had not inherited that trait. Killian was remarkably organized, but she and Henry tended to lose everything and clutter followed them, leaving a trail in their wake.

"We'll clean up in the morning, love," Killian said, folding the throw blanket in his hands over the back of the couch. "You look like you could use some sleep."

She kicked a leaning stack of Henry's video games with her foot to prove her point. "This place is always a mess," she said. "And it is a freaking ice box in here. Elsa might not mind the cold, but we have heat and a fireplace. Can we please sleep in an apartment that is more than 55 degrees at night?"

Killian followed behind her, watching her flip through the mail on the kitchen counter and mutter about bills. Her attention jetted from subject to subject without much consideration. He didn't correct her when she complained that he or Henry had finished the last of the pie that she had bought at the school bake sale the day before, though he had seen her sneaking a piece with Elsa.

"Sleep?" he asked again, a bit helplessly.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm in a bad mood."

"I can tell," he said, lifting her chin with his hand and making her meet his gaze. "What is wrong that has you this testy?"

She frowned, trying to pull her face from his. "I'm mad, but I feel like I shouldn't let myself be mad," she said. "I feel like I should be happy and grateful that you're better, that Elsa's found her sister, that my parents are finally getting some sleep because the baby's sleeping the night now, that Henry is having so much fun with Robin and Regina that he asked about spending next weekend with them even though he's typically here." She stopped. "It feels like I should be so grateful and happy that I shouldn't have time or energy to let little things bother me."

His hand still supported her chin and his other arm wound about her waist. "If it is enough to have you throwing things, it is worth talking about," he suggested. "You don't have to be grateful and happy all the time. If you were, I'm not sure I'd recognize you."

"You're a good guy, Killian," she said to him. "I'm sorry I haven't always seen that."

"I'm not sure that your prior assessments of me were off the mark," he said with a little shrug. "You're perceptive enough to know that I've lived life as a pirate, which has meant I've been a thief and an opportunist."

She placed both her hands on his chest as though she wanted to push him away, but instead, her palms traveled across the planes. "And what are you now?" she asked. "I was an orphan, a foster child, a thief, a…"

"I don't know that I have a label now," he admitted. "I can't call myself a captain without a ship. A pirate either for that matter. Yet I don't want those things to define me here. The truth is that those labels are for other people to use. It makes it easier for other people to judge your character if they have a label to put on it. Much less thinking."

"Labels let us hide behind them," she said. "I can tell people that I'm a sheriff or that I'm a mom to Henry, but it doesn't tell people who I really am."

His lips touched the tip of her nose, making her smile at the cute way he could always bring her down. He was right. The labels that others threw at him did not match the man he was inside. "You can wear any label you wish, Emma," he said. "You're a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, the sheriff, a Savior, a Lost Girl, a perplexing mess, a beautiful woman, a strong fighter, and a talented vixen, but none of those alone make you Emma Swan."

"Then what does?" she asked softly. "What makes me Emma and what makes you Killian?"

He chuckled at her earnestness. "I don't know that I could list all the things," he said. "But I love finding out what makes you Emma."

"I have a long list about you," she playfully disclosed. "Maybe I should share it with you sometime." Her hands clutched his shirt, pulling him closer to her to allow her to kiss him. Lips caressed and tongues dueled for a moment before she pulled back, smiling as he instinctively tried to follow her with his mouth. "Maybe we should continue this," she said softly, tilting her head toward the bedroom door. He did not hesitate.

_**Thanks again for the feedback and reviews. It motivates me to keep going with this. **_


	37. Chapter 37 - Worry

_**My semester is over so now I just have to play wife, mother, and employee. I will try to have another update up in the next 48 hours, but no promises. I've got two holiday events, a kid with a fever, and husband who seems to be helpless with buying gifts for his family. Enjoy the Captain Swan.**_

_**A note for Gublers - (sleepwalking) - that's still going on...haven't resolved that in the story yet. **_

_**A special thanks to everyone who is reading, following, favoriting and reviewing. It is very encouraging to get reviews saying you like my ideas and writing. As someone who writes for a living and is going to school for writing, it can be hard to stay inspired and encouraged, but you guys offer me that. :)**_

His breath was warm against her neck, steady and sure in his sleep. Curled into him, she relished the moments of silence, enjoying the weight of his leg on hers and softness of his hair against her cheek as his face nuzzled into her neck. Despite the busy day on the slate for her, she kept telling herself that five more minutes would not be a bad thing.

She'd missed waking up in his arms, the lazy moments before the alarm sounded and late nights where they just enjoyed the warmth, comfort, and stability of being together. So for this morning at least, she was going to savor that time with him before work, responsibilities, Henry, and the rest of her family took her away.

"You're thinking again," he muttered against her skin, pulling back to grin knowingly at her. She half wanted to slap him and half kiss him for once again knowing what she was thinking. It had ceased to be annoying and was bordering on intrusive with the way he just knew. At the same time there was something comforting about it, that intimacy that had nothing to do with their physical relationship, but rather their emotional one.

"You going to tell me what I'm thinking about?" she asked. "Don't you already know?

"I'm not a mind reader," he protested. "I can just tell that you weren't the relaxed and calm Emma that fell asleep last night. The way you were breathing. The rhythm of the way you are running your fingers in my hair and that way you hold your mouth when you turn something over in your mind. You have tells, darling. I just happen to be the one to see them." He pulled her with him as he rolled to his back, letting her place her head on his chest – familiar position that she usually gravitated toward.

"Remind me not to play poker with you," she muttered. "You'd win all my money." She giggled. "Really, Killian, I'm not thinking about anything special. I was just going through my schedule."

"I see," he told her, the back of his hand caressing the side of her face. "You must have a busy day planned."

"Not a horribly busy one," she objected. "I'm just trying to enjoy this moment with you right now." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but she tried anyway. He watched her carefully and opened his mouth to speak. "Don't start," she warned.

His chuckle vibrated in his chest and made her laugh too with the feeling. "So why don't you tell me about this busy day of yours," he said. "Are you preparing to save the town and its inhabitants again?"

He had a way of teasing her that seemed less offensive and more congratulatory. For she knew if given the opportunity he would comment about her innate abilities and his complete faith in her. "Belle and I are going to finish searching the properties," she said softly. "And then my father and I have an appointment at the garage about the car that we think hit you. But all of that is flexible if any of the leads about Gold wind up coming through."

She could feel him tense at that comment, his face threatening to betray the emotions inside. "Can I dare ask what you plan to do to the Dark One once he is found?" Killian broached carefully. "Eventually you will find him, but what then?"

Propping herself up on one arm, she looked down at him, realizing it was truly the first time that he was talking about Rumpelstiltskin or the events of that night. Even if he was speaking in hypotheticals about events that had not transpired, he was finally acknowledging it. "We'll see when we find him," she said. "He needs to pay for what he's done to you."

"Love, there are many who have tried to make that man pay for his crimes," Killian warningly told her. "My own name is at the top of that list. But it can become an obsession that takes over your life and removes any possibility of happiness. He's a powerful man. Putting him in jail or even capturing him at all could prove a dangerous and impossible feat. That's why I am going to say this…" He paused, watching her confused expression.

"Killian, don't ask me to leave this be," she said. "He tried to kill you. He almost succeeded."

"But he failed this time," he reminded her. "He wasn't successful."

She growled out her response, anger bubbling from where she had pushed it away. "No," she said. "He wasn't successful, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to let him get away with it. I hate even thinking about what he tried to do…"

"Love, don't do this," he said.

"I want him to pay," Emma said firmly, pushing herself up to a standing position. She threw her robe on over her pajamas, tying the belt around her middle. "I can't let him win because we're all scared of him. I have to fight back."

He was still on his back, watching her pace like a caged tiger. "Emma…" He began, hoping that she would stop her incessant walking to look back at him. "Love…"

"Killian," she said backing up to the dresser across from the bed. Her hands gripped the edge of the wood tightly. "When I saw you there and thought for a moment that I might have lost you, I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to hurt for at least a few moments."

He pulled himself up to a sitting position, the sheet pillowing over his lower body. "Love," he began again. "You were angry. I understand that, but you can't live your life based off his code. You can't kill what frustrates you, angers you, and tries to destroy you. Don't you see, Emma? Once you give into that fear and anger so that you do kill someone, you're never the same."

She involuntarily took a few steps toward the bed, her head tilted and her eyes watering. "Killian?"

"Hatred like that eats at you," he said. "It echoes inside of you. It's always there, gnawing and bubbling below the surface. It takes away any bit of happiness and replaces it with jealousy, greed, and a hunger that isn't satisfied. That's not what I want for you, Swan. You are a beautiful and strong woman, but if you succumb to that, you'll change."

She sat down across from him, finally stopping her pacing. "Killian," she said. "I don't want to let it consume me."

"Then don't," he said. "I don't want you to become like me."

She smiled. "Is that such a bad thing?" she asked. She meant it as a joke, but the moment the words left her mouth, she could see the look on his face was more serious. "Killian," she said, "I'm the sheriff in Storybrooke. That is a lot of responsibility. What kind of sheriff would I be if I let a known criminal wander in and out of our lives? What will he do next? He could hurt you again. He could hurt more people. You can't really expect me to ignore that."

He sighed, rolling over on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "Emma," he said. "I worry about you. If you put your mind to it, I have no doubt that you can find that Crocodile and win any battle you wish with him. But it doesn't make me rest easy to think about you doing battle with him. I've seen with my own eyes what damage that man can do. And the thought of him coming after you…Frankly it scares me to even consider the consequences. He's a man without a soul or a conscience." His eyes that had been so pleading and warm suddenly dropped. "If he hurt you…"

She sat back down on the bed, coaxing his face up to meet her gaze. "Don't you see," she said. "Don't you see that's why I have to be the one to find him and put an end to this? I'm so worried that he'll hurt you. And you're worried that he'll hurt me. We can't live like this." She leaned forward, placing her chin on his shoulder. "Trust me. I won't let him hurt anyone I love again."

***AAA***

Emma felt the cold blast of air as she entered the living room, her eyes darting about the once cluttered area that now seemed neater. Magazines and books were stacked in orderly piles, dishes put away, cabinets and drawers were shut, remote controls were lined up, and the shoes and jackets that seemed to grow were neatly hung and lined up in the coat closet. But beyond that the front door stood wide open, bits of newly fallen snow now melting on the wood floor of the entryway.

"What the hell?" Emma asked no one in particular as she padded across the room to shut the door. Looking at the sturdy but old locks on the wooden frame, she distinctly remembered turning each of them the night before, listening to the reassuring groan each one gave up at the end. There was no way that door had merely flown open with the force of nothing more than a sharp breeze.

"It's cold in here," Henry complained as he emerged from his bedroom, his sleep enhanced eyes blinking rapidly at the contrast. "Did the radiator break again?"

She shook her head quickly, trying to remove thoughts about why the door was open and reassure her son at the same time. "I must have messed up the thermostat," she explained in a low tone. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Henry climbed up on the barstool at the island and opened his geography book. "I need brain food," he declared. "I have to know every country in Europe by second period." Flipping through the pages, he stared down at the colorful map.

"I guess that means eggs," Emma decided, pulling out the ingredients and busily preparing the meal. In between stirs, she tried to quiz him.

"I'm never going to get this," he complained.

"Maybe you should try studying for more than a few hours before a test," Emma suggested, giving the scrambled eggs another stir. "You're a smart kid. I just wish…"

"I'd apply myself," Henry finished for her. "I know. I know."

Emma was reaching for plates when she heard the phone ring, sounding distinctly shrill in the quiet of the morning. Henry grabbed the phone out of his mother's reach and began talking lowly in earnest. His mother rolled her eyes at him, grinning as he cupped the mouth piece with his hand and said something that she could not interpret.

"Henry?" she half questioned and half commanded. "Breakfast."

Her son gave her another glance, whispering back in the phone and then laughing. "Gotta go," he said into the phone. He held it out to her. "I'll trade you eggs for the phone."

She was not about to negotiate it. Ripping the phone out of his hand, she saw her father's face on the panel. "Hi," she said. "What was that about?"

"Oh with Henry?" her father asked. "Nothing. Just chatting."

"Right," Emma said, pushing a glass of milk in front of her son and reaching for her own coffee. "And what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Just wondering when you're coming in," her father answered. "Got a lot to do today."

_**Thoughts?**_


	38. Chapter 38 - Living

_**Still stressed with work and home, but I thought a quick update might put me in a good mood. I came up with an idea for another story I want to write, but I'm going to finish this one first. If I write according to how I have this planned, I should finish it within the next week or so. But you know how that goes. **_

_**Thanks again for everyone's feedback and support. **_

She closed the notebook in her hand and frowned at the man in front of her. "This is a school zone," she reminded the man, absently pointing at the brick building behind her. "You know better than this."

Her frown remained as she wrote out the ticket, his pleas falling on deaf ears. It was only 11 a.m. and she'd already written two tickets, an unusual job for the sheriff of any town. But as she had told David, the act somewhat relaxed her with its mundane actions and redundancy.

"You can't enjoy it that much," Regina said, approaching as the car drove off. "The Sheriff and Savior writing traffic tickets seems to be a waste of your talents and far beneath your status."

"Good morning, Regina," Emma said with a tight lipped smile. "And what brings you out today?"

"I was dropping by the school to see about Henry," she said, digging her hands into her pockets. "I'd be happy to chat with you about that if you have time for a coffee."

Nodding her head, the two women walked in relative silence on their way to Granny's. Emma glanced at the woman's face through the corner of her eye and noted the tense expression she wore. This was more than just Henry, Emma thought to herself. Regina ordered for them as they entered the diner, her words crisp and short to the waitress.

"Miss Swan," she said, pointing to an empty table. "I'm concerned."

"About Henry?" Emma said, sliding into the chair opposite the other woman and pulling a menu from behind the napkin holder. "He's doing better in school, isn't he? I've been trying to go over his homework and help him with tests and assignments."

Regina frowned and turned her face to watch the wait staff rustle about to fill cups and deliver orders. "No," she finally said, breaking the silence. "It isn't completely about Henry. Rumpelstiltskin, Gold, the Dark One, whatever you want to call him. He's not going to stay out of sight and quiet forever. I think you know that."

"Of course," Emma answered, smiling up at the waitress who dropped off their coffees. "That's why I've been looking for him."

"I doubt you'll have to look very hard," Regina said, stirring in a bit of sweetener. "He's taken certain interest in you, or more particularly your pirate." The spoon clattered back down on the table and Emma waited for her to continue.

"I'd say hitting him with a car is a little more than taking an interest," Emma answered. "And this isn't news."

Regina took a long sip, again watching the busy staff. "I'm not accusing you of being slow," she said. "I'm simply saying that of everyone in Storybrooke that you, Hook, and Belle are in the most danger from him. He's not likely to slip back into town quietly. He will do something on a larger scale that will take our attention."

"I guess you would know," Emma challenged, her eyes flashing a bit with frustration. "Being friends with him and all has its privileges." The steam from the coffee cups rose and mingled between them as they both sat there, leaning forward to help protect the conversation from prying ears.

"He's not someone I completely trust by a long shot, but I understand him better than most," Regina admitted. "Our dealings in the past have taught me things. And well, I just feel that perhaps you aren't as ready as you think you are in terms of him."

"Are you offering to help me get ready?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "We've worked together before, but it usually ends with you being angry at me for some reason or another."

Regina braced her hands on the table as though she was about to stand up and leave Emma there alone. Her face hardened its expression, but slowly she let herself soften her approach. "I'm offering nothing of the kind, Ms. Swan," she said a bit tightly. "I was just suggesting that perhaps Henry would be safer in my care until this is over."

"What?" Emma asked, rousing the attention of other patrons with her shrill question. She lowered her voice a bit. "Why would I ever agree to that?"

"We both know I'm right about Rumple coming after you and Hook," Regina answered with no show of emotion at all. "And I'd rather my son not be in the middle of that."

"_Our_ son," Emma corrected, realizing immediately that pettiness was not her answer. "And while he lives with me, he has Hook, Elsa, my parents to look after his safety and well-being, as well as me."

Regina sighed dramatically, reaching for her coat after another sip of coffee. "I knew you would react this way," she said, standing up abruptly. "Just don't let yourself or any of your family and friends get distracted."

***AAA***

Elsa carried the bags into the apartment, kicking the door shut with her foot. "Emma?" she asked loudly. "Are you here?"

"Be right out!" Emma shouted from the bedroom. Emerging, she smiled at her friend and attempted to take a few of the bags from her. "What's all this?"

"Your mother," Elsa said with a laugh. "She's worried that you, Hook, and Henry are living on take out." Depositing the bags on the counter, she moved her body in front of them to keep them from spilling over. "I told her that you cook, but she insisted that one cannot live on grilled cheese, pancakes, and scrambled eggs alone."

Emma laughed loudly, reaching in and pulling out various items. "Did she add a cookbook?" Emma asked. "I can't believe she'd trust me with all these items without some instructions."

"Your mother is a determined woman," Elsa said, removing a bag with produce to the refrigerator. "The more you say no to her, the harder she pushes." Wiping her hands on her purple sweater, Elsa turned her attention to the next bag.

"She's stubborn that way," Emma agreed, hearing Killian's voice in her head of the similarity she shared with Snow. "So how is your sister adjusting? I haven't had a chance to…"

"Anna makes herself at home no matter where she is," Elsa said. "Currently she's with Belle getting a lesson televisions and movies. Earlier it was footwear and fashion accessories with Ruby." Elsa handed Emma a can for the cupboard where Emma was currently standing. "My sister can be a bit much for anyone so I think it is best to let people take turns."

Laughing, Emma fit the can into the overflowing shelf. "But she's your sister and you love her," she answered. "Anyone can see how proud you are of her. I think it's great. I used to want a sister. I think it would have been fun to have grown up with someone."

Elsa's hand hesitated over another bag, her face dropping a bit. "Are you really okay?" Elsa asked quietly. "I know you said you were fine with your test result, but I was thinking…"

Emma let out a quick rush of air. "I'm fine," she insisted. "And I know what you are thinking, but seriously the timing was not right. It is better this way." She placed another bag inside the others, making a bundle for her mom to reuse. "To be honest it would be like everything else in my life has been so far. My life keeps happening to me instead of me living my life. I don't seem to be able to plan and carry out anything without drama."

Nodding, Elsa handed her the last empty bag. "I get that," she said. "But you have to admit that it isn't all bad."

"No," Emma said. "It isn't all bad. Some of it is pretty damn good."

The two women sat down and attempted to catch up on a few points of interest until Killian and Henry were due to return that evening. "I'm sure that my parents don't mind you staying there at the loft with your sister and Kristoff," Emma was saying as her phone chirped. Looking down at it, she frowned and pushed it back into her pocket. "You might like having that time with your sister."

Elsa nervously chewed on her lip. "It's a bit of an odd situation," she admitted. "Anna and I do need to return home, but nobody can figure out a way yet. So for now we are in limbo. And as much as I adore my sister and your parents, I'm not wanting to put them out. And I don't want to be a burden to you either."

"Don't talk like that," Emma admonished, patting her friend's arm comfortingly. "Henry loves having someone to cook with and play video games against each night. I love having you here to talk to and for there to be another female so Killian and Henry can't gang up on me. And I know for a fact that Killian likes having you here because it is someone he can commiserate with over how different life is in Storybrooke."

Elsa smiled warmly. "That's very kind of all of you, but wouldn't you rather…"

"I wouldn't have invited you or said those things if I didn't mean them," Emma interrupted.

"We – Anna, Kristoff, and I – were thinking about their situation," she said, attempting to change the subject. "The last time I had seen Anna, she and Kristoff were finalizing plans for their wedding. They are considering having it here in Storybrooke and finding a place of their own until we can figure out the whole portal thing."

"That would be great," Emma said. "But planning a wedding fitting of a royal is a bit different in this realm, I'm sure."

"It does seem that way," Elsa agreed. "Your mother showed us websites and magazines. There are planners and rules that I can't even…anyway…I said all that to say that whatever Anna and Kristoff are planning to do, the living situation for them at your parents in only temporary."

Thoughtfully, Emma nodded in agreement. "They probably would want their privacy," she added.

"Yes, and I was planning to come back here for a while," Elsa said. "If it is still alright."

"Of course," Emma agreed.

"Good," Elsa smiled.

_**I hope that didn't come off as too awkward. I needed to get Elsa back to the apartment, but I was not happy with how I was going to write Anna. So this is what I came up with for a reason for the move back. **_


	39. Chapter 39 - Observation

_**So I've made two pans of fudge and a triple layer cake for work. I'm practically Betty Crocker over here. Before we get to the resolutions of this story, I had to do some fluff. Hope you enjoy.**_

Fat, wet snowflakes spattered across the windshield of her Volkswagen Beetle, just heavy enough for her to turn on the wipers. Pushing down in the driver's seat, she watched the cars come and go from the edge of town toward the school and businesses for the start of the day. Her coffee, which she held in a leather gloved hand, was tepid and a half eaten bagel was on her denim clad knee.

"I don't see anything," Elsa said from her spot in the backseat. "I don't know what I'm looking for, but I certainly don't see it." The blonde woman let out a sigh of frustration.

The three of them had been in that location for more than an hour, unofficially performing surveillance. It had originally been an impromptu decision after a night of movies had left them with no coffee in the apartment and cravings for caffeine and Granny's omelets. But no sooner had Ruby begun to pour the coffee than had Anna rushed into the diner with news that Rumpelstiltskin had been seen just a few blocks from the elementary school. Emma had been halfway to her car when she heard Killian and Elsa behind her, declaring they were coming along. She had tried to argue, but it had done no good.

While Emma had spent a good portion of her adult life looking for criminals or bail jumpers, her companions had not. Killian had gotten out of the car twice already, complaining that he was not used to such cramped quarters. And Elsa, who had not remembered to take a to-go cup of coffee with her, was nodding off in the backseat, which she had declared the most comfortable of the options.

"How sure are we that Anna would know what the Dark One would look like in this realm anyway?" Killian muttered, taking a sip of his lukewarm drink and sneering in disgust. "He isn't his usual shining self in Storybrooke."

"You two didn't have to come with me," Emma told them, breaking off another bit of the stale bagel. "We're a bit conspicuous anyway. Gold knows my car and you two don't help me blend in around here."

Killian gave her a side glance, his eyes dancing with amusement. "You think you could be incognito with the bloody Dark One?" he asked. "It would be a safe bet that he's not only predicted your appearance, but knows your plan as well."

"Is there a plan?" Elsa asked, propping her bent legs on the back seat. "Should I know what the plan is exactly?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Would you two calm down?" she asked impatiently. "We're not going to do anything. "All I wanted was to see if it is him. If it is, I will come up with a plan, but right now…"

"We don't know if it is him," Killian finished for her, looking at the unfinished breakfast bread on her knee. "Are you finishing that?"

She looked over at him. "Didn't you bring yours with you?" she asked.

"I ate it already," he admitted. "And I'm still hungry." His mouth turned down into a sullen pout as he watched her break off another piece and pop it in her mouth as if to say too bad. "You're a cruel wench."

"It's my breakfast," she protested, moving the bagel to her other knee as if that would deter his hand or hook. "You should have thought about your needs before getting in the car."

He grunted his reply, taking another gulp of coffee and coughing at its taste and temperature. She couldn't help but laugh at him. Elsa on the other hand was groaning from the back seat. "I thought we were supposed to be quiet on a…what did you refer to this as again, Emma?"

Emma considered her options for a moment and almost called David to relieve her of her two "assistants." But she didn't want to insult anyone. "It's called a stakeout and we're fine," Emma said, taking another bite of her bagel and making Killian mutter about wenches and selfish women. With only a third of the bagel left, she held it out to him. "Fine," she said with exasperation. "Take it."

He smiled brightly and practically ripped it from her hand. "Thank you, Swan," he said with a laugh. "You do love me, don't you?"

"More than she loves me," Elsa piped up, leaning forward. "Do you have more food up there? I'm starving."

Emma closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't think we're going to see anything," she muttered. "Let's go back to the apartment." She turned the key, the engine roaring to life. "Next time I go alone."

"Can we stop back by Granny's?" Elsa and Killian asked in unison, which made them both laugh.

***AAA***

"I've never seen anyone like that before in my life," Anna said to Henry, her eyes wide and her hands flashing in front of her. "I asked him about why he was practically glowing. Who looks like that naturally?"

Henry nodded, sticking one of the raw carrot sticks in his mouth and crunching loudly. He shot a look at Emma, who shrugged in return.

"I saw a place today where you can get skin treatments," Anna continued, ignoring the fact that her one person audience was desperately scanning the room for anyone to rescue him. Most of his family and his mother's friends were failing to make eye contact. "It was odd, but the women there looked very happy. Maybe Rumpelstiltskin would go to a place like that. He must have had some help to look as normal as he looked today."

Henry considered laughing at her suggestion, the idea of his grandfather getting a facial amusing to him. But he reconsidered, realizing that laughing would only encourage her to continue. Kristoff must be deaf, he thought to himself, watching the man demonstrate some sort of chopping technique to Killian and David. Elsa practicing some sort of spell with his mother and his grandmother was bouncing his uncle on her shoulder.

"Have you ever tried peanut butter?" Henry managed to ask the princess across from him. His grandparents had invited everyone over to have dinner, suggesting that together they could determine some sort of plan for living arrangements and the upcoming wedding. So far those topics had not been discussed, which Henry realized meant that he was stuck entertaining Anna.

"What is it?" she asked, following him to the kitchen cupboard where he pulled it out. Grabbing a spoon, he dipped it in and handed her a brown glop that he hoped would stick her tongue to the point that she could not talk. His grandmother had told him the story of Regina removing a mermaid's voice once. Perhaps he would ask her how that was done.

He tried to explain that was treat made from a nut, but she questioned its existence to the point that he became discouraged.

"What are you doing, kid?" Emma asked, coming behind him and placing both hands on his shoulders.

"He's showing me peanut…what?" Anna tried to understand. "He says it is quite good."

Emma laughed, taking the spoon from her son and sending him on an errand to find a new diaper for his uncle. "Go ahead," she told him, her eyes warning that he shouldn't thank her for the reprieve. "Are you enjoying Storybrooke so far?" Emma asked the other woman, settling in for what she knew would be a long wait.

***AAA***

Emma shut off the last lamp in the living room, sighing with exhaustion and contentment that they had made it back to the apartment and were safely tucked in for the night. Henry had dropped first, falling asleep twice before Emma had finally gotten him into his room. He was now lying in his favorite position with the comforter up around him and one foot dangling off the edge of the bed. Elsa retired next, and was currently curled up in her bed with a book open next to her waiting for her to wake up and turn the page. Killian had chuckled at Emma's exhaustion, telling her that listening to Anna was not more taxing than a discussion of ice cutting techniques versus farming skills.

"You look comfy," she told him, noting the nice cocoon like structure he had created with the blankets.

"And lonely," he commented, again sticking out his bottom lip.

She shook her head in mock anger. "I'm not falling for that," she said, removing her earrings and watch to place on the dresser's top. "You just want to get me in that bed."

"And what would be so wrong with that?" he asked, looking a bit hurt along with amused. "I have shared you all day today. Shouldn't I have a little time with my Swan before you run off on another chase?" His eyes pleaded with her over the corner of the comforter.

"I'll be there in a minute," she said, continuing her ritual of getting ready for bed. "You're very persistent."

"I have to be persistent with you, love," he said. "Your first instinct seems to be to reject me. I'm pleased that you seem to have moved past that now."

She ran a hand through her hair, laughing at the fact a pirate was wrapped up like a burrito in her bed. A few years ago she would have thought that could only be possible in the world of roleplaying and fantasy. "Yes," she said, agreeing him as she crawled onto the bed and kissed the only exposed skin she could find – his nose. "You wore me down. I couldn't say no forever."

"So that was what it was," he commented, lifting his arm to open the protective shell of the comforter to her. "It was my persistence and not my charm, my dashing abilities, my devilishly handsome good looks…"

"You want a list?" she asked, snuggling into his side and smiling as he closed the covers around her. "I could get up out of this bed and get some paper to make a full list. Not very cozy for us, but if you insist…"

He chuckled. "Maybe later," he commented. "We don't want to do everything all at once."

_**Poor Emma…she's surrounded.**_


	40. Chapter 40 - Looking

_**Hi everyone! This is just a short update, but I wanted to get it out there before the office holiday party today. Thanks again for reading. Please review. **_____

David blinked a few times against the bright sunshine that had replaced the cold gray skies spitting snow. Holding the mug tightly in his hands, he watched from the window as his daughter slammed the door of her car a little harder than necessary and leapt over the water puddles from yesterday's snow that was now melting. Her movements were almost childlike and made him imagine for a moment seeing her at 8 or 9 doing the same thing with blonde hair flying behind her.

She shivered as she entered the office, whipping off her hat and gloves to briefly brush her long hair with her fingers. Her normally porcelain skin was a bit windblown and rosy, a bright color that became her. Rubbing her hands together, he watched her seek out the coffee pot and smile when she realized he'd made enough for her too. He waited on her to fill a mug and get it just right before he started talking.

"Regina thinks that Henry could be in danger if Rumple decides to strike again," Emma admitted, her gaze not quite meeting his. He knew that look. It was her way of admitting that she was worried too. "He's clearly got an agenda against Hook and if Henry was somehow in the way of that…"

David nodded, seeing the dilemma clearly now. "Regina is suggesting that she take custody of Henry fulltime?"

"Yes, she thinks he'll be safer," Emma said. "I said no, but…if something did happen to him, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for that." She frowned, her eyes darting to a framed photo of herself with Henry on her desk. She needed a new one, an update to the one that clearly showed her son as a young boy before the first curse had been broken.

"You're doing the right things to protect him," David told her. "You are dropping him off at school or putting him directly on the bus. Regina or Robin pick him up every afternoon. He's never alone in the apartment. You're in constant contact with his cell phone."

She shot him a disbelieving look. "Those are no match against the magic of Rumpelstiltskin," she countered. "If he wants…"

"We don't know what he's wanting," David answered back. "He's Henry's grandfather, but his interest in him has been limited at best. Most of his interest was lying in Neal, not Henry. And now that Neal's gone, I'm not sure that Gold sees Henry as much use to him." He squinted as he looked back to the window. "You and Regina could be borrowing trouble."

"I certainly hope that's the case," Emma said. "But the other possibilities are scary too. I don't want him going after anyone I love. I need to figure out what he's up to, where he's hiding and stop him."

David pulled out his phone, flipping through a few messages. "We've hit a bit of a wall with this," he admitted. "What do you think we should do?"

"You're asking me?" she asked incredulously. "Aren't you usually the one telling me that you've got this and I'm not needed?" The chair bent backwards with her as she stared up at him sitting on the edge of her desk.

"Emma," he said warningly. "I'm very appreciative of your skills. Now let's figure this out."

The phones of the office gave short rings, indicating that David had not removed them from the answering service. Pressing a few buttons on the computer's keyboard, Emma heard the sound of the printer roaring to life with a list of locations that had already been searched. Removing a stack of books from her desk, she unrolled the map of the town. "Alright," Emma answered, pulling a few markers out of her drawer. "These are the places we've searched that I'm marking in blue. These in green are the ones we ruled out as possibilities."

David's finger traced a line from where Gold's shop sat to the town line. "We've concentrated in this area then," he said thoughtfully. "I was sure that was part of his plan…to leave town somehow."

Emma nodded, pulling out a red marker. "But we've had two sightings of him. Here and here." She marked the camp of the Merry Men and the area adjacent to the school. "There isn't really a pattern there." She frowned.

Reaching across the map, he grabbed an orange marker out of her hand. "These are the properties that he owns that are unoccupied," David said, circling a few more spots.

Emma inspected the now colorful map. "I don't quite understand why the locator spell didn't work on him," she said. "It would seem like that would be the easiest way of tracking him down."

"I agree," said David. "But Belle and Regina seem to think that he's done some sort of cloaking spell on himself to avoid the effects of that sort of thing." Looking down, he noticed his daughter and pushed the sleeves of her white sweater up above her elbows. Circling her right arm were greenish brown bruises that deepened to dark purple before fading out. "What on earth?" he said, lifting her arm for a better look.

Emma pulled her arm back slowly. "I know, right?" she said with a timid laugh. "I don't know what I've been doing lately. Killian and Elsa both have said they found me walking in my sleep. And the other day I woke myself up when I walked into the door frame during an episode. It's odd, but I think it is just stress."

Unconvinced, David reached back out to grip her arm. "This is from walking into a door frame?" he asked.

"I guess," she answered. "I don't really remember the episodes that clearly." Again, she let out a nervous laugh. "They are odd, but not really dangerous. I've moved items or went for a walk."

"Emma…"

"I've got a long list of neuroses," Emma interrupted. "This is just one of them. A minor one."

***AAA***

Killian was juggling the mail and a package from the mailbox in one arm as he struggled to open the door to the apartment. He'd spent the last several hours out on Leroy's boat at Emma and David's request. They'd found no sign of the Dark One and no indication that there was a new way in or out to the realm via the sea.

"Henry?" he called out, setting the items on the counter. The boy was due home at 3:30 that day and Killian had promised to be home to meet him. It was only 3:20, but sometimes Henry's schedule could vary by a few minutes. However, seeing no sign of his backpack or jacket, Killian realized that he probably wasn't there just yet.

The apartment was quiet, which was strikingly odd since there was usually someone milling about. Emma usually played some sort of music on her small device and Elsa had come to love the sounds too. Killian was more entertained by the television and flipped it on for a little background noise as he sorted the mail and waited on Henry's arrival. If he had only a little homework, Killian thought that perhaps they could pick up something for Emma and visit with her for a few minutes before heading back.

At 3:35, Killian got up from the couch and looked out the window toward the empty street below. There was no sign of Regina's car or Robin walking with Henry from the direction of the school. At 3:40, Killian stepped out onto the stoop and looked in both directions for any indication that his arrival was imminent. At 3:45, Killian checked the calendar that Emma had posted on the refrigerator, looking to see if he had misheard the schedule that morning. At 3:50, he called Henry's phone and left a short message asking for a return call. At 3:55, Killian called Emma.


	41. Chapter 41 - Working

"What the hell are you doing?" Emma asked her father, whirling around on her heel so fast that she almost lost her balance. "You heard Killian. Henry's missing. My son is missing." Her eyes flashed with anger and fear and her hands were clenched into fists by her side. Ripping her jacket off the rack, she stood in the doorway practically shaking. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling the school," David answered a bit calmer than Emma expected him to be at that moment. There were certainly signs of agitation in him with the way he ran his hands through his hair and the muttered angry words that came out as he tried to reach his wife to only get her voicemail. "They will know what time he was picked up."

Emma stamped her foot on the ground and whipped on her hat and gloves angrily. "I'm going to look for him," she said, hesitating with her hand on the door. "Are you coming?"

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "I'll be ready in a moment, but we need to talk to the school. You call Regina and see if it was her or Robin that was supposed to pick him up." David's calmer nature was driving her insane.

"I'm…" she gave up her protest and dug her phone out of her pocket. Dialing Regina's number, she got not answer. "Damn it, Regina," she said into the phone's voicemail. "I'm calling about Henry. Is he with you? Killian said he's not home yet. Call me back." She disconnected the call and stared at her father defiantly. "Ready?"

"Mrs. Crabtree," David said with a sigh of relief. "This is David Nolan over at the Sheriff's Station. I'm calling about a student, Henry Mills. Do you know if he is still at the school or if he has already left?" David waited a moment, nodding to nothing in particular. "I see. Do you happen to know who picked him up?" Again he paused. "I see. I understand that with so many children." His eyes closed. "Yes, I understand. Thank you." He hung up the phone, still staring at his own hand as he lifted it off the receiver.

"They don't know who picked him up, do they?" Emma asked shakily. "Nobody bothered to pay attention." Her voice cracked on the last word and she swallowed hard to avoid the tears that threatened to fall. "Let's just go, please."

He pulled on his own coat, not missing the way she stormed toward the patrol car. Her features had hardened and he could almost hear the gears of her mind cranking out reasons that this should not be happening. Next would come the guilt that she had not stopped it. "Emma," he said, lightly touching her shoulder. "I'm going to drive."

She whipped around to face him, flashing anger at him again, but retreated when she saw that he was not offering but telling her. With a balled up fist, she dropped the keys in his hand and stalked to the passenger side of the vehicle. "And your plan?" she spat out, as he cranked the car.

"First we drive the route he should have taken home," David answered. "We look for witnesses. We find Regina and get a firm answer on who was to have been with him today. And we find him." David's hands clutched the steering wheel tightly.

Emma had not bothered with her seatbelt and sank lower into the passenger seat. "I can't lose him," she said softly. "I can't."

***AAA***

Killian had not even bothered with a coat, something that he would have regretted had he thought about it. Shaking slightly, he walked the couple of blocks toward the school with his eyes peeled for any sign of Henry. He did not know of any excuse that might have delayed Emma's son, but he hoped for one. And unlike the detective shows that Emma sometimes watched at night, there were no glaring clues. No scarf on the ground or unmistakable footprints. There were no witnesses waiting to be interviewed or neon signs pointing the right direction.

Killian circled back, this time walking on the other side of the street when he saw the narrower road that led from the shopping district past the warehouses and to the dock. On instinct he turned in that direction and followed the road. As sunny as it was, the inhabitants of the Maine town seemed to be inside and quietly going about their days. There were no workers hurrying along the streets and no children playing. Killian ignored that for a moment and kept his focus on anything that might seem out of the norm. His phone chirped and before he realized that it was the only sound he heard, he pulled it out and answered.

"Where are you?" Emma asked him, not waiting for him to finish saying hello. "I thought…"

"I had to go out and look," he responded. "I'm near those warehouses." He listened as she explained what little they knew at that point. Her words were methodical, but he could hear the fear and tension in her voice. There was nothing he could do over the phone to ease that.

"We'll find him," he said for what he felt was the tenth time in the conversation. "I promise you."

"I know," she said, sounding a bit more resigned that he wanted to hear. "I shouldn't…"

"Don't," he warned. "Don't start blaming yourself, or me, or Regina, or anyone else but the bloody Dark One. We know he did this to your boy. Who else could it possibly be? Now is the time for us to put all the accusations and guilt out of our heads and find them. We have to put an end to this."

"Killian," she said, sounding younger than he had ever heard her sound. "I…" The phone was silent and he wasn't sure if it was her lack of words or if the connection had ended. He waited for her to continue.

"Emma?" he asked. "Love?" He pulled back the phone and stared at the screen. It showed nothing and no indication that she was still there. A few more calls of her name resulted in the same silence. He was about to press the button she had programed for him again when he saw the light green color against the gray of the concrete structures. It stood out, an oasis in the midst of industry. Promising to call her back in a moment, he hurried toward it.

There between a truck and the low walled fence separating two properties laid Robin Hood. No wounds were visible and his eyes though closed were slitting open at the sound of Killian's voice. The man groaned and grabbed his head, grunting as he ungracefully tried to sit up.

"Take it easy, mate," Killian coaxed, supporting Robin's back as the man opened his eyes. Startled, Robin grabbed Killian's arm and yanked him closer.

"Where's Henry?" he asked, his voice thick and heavy from pain. "What did he do to him?"

Killian steadied himself. "What do you last remember?" he asked.

Robin explained the situation in halting but chilling words. There had been no major display of magic other than that move to knock Robin out cold. Rumple had simply kidnapped the boy, dragging him to the car. Henry's fear had been palpable, according to Robin.

Killian processed the information and called Emma immediately, relaying it all to her. She had not been surprised and even managed a quick question about Robin's well-being. Emma was good at compartmentalizing, her entire life fitting into neat boxes that did not allow intermingling. She questioned Killian professionally, not letting anything else reveal itself in her voice. He was proud of that, but the coldness frightened him a bit.

***AAA***

"I knew this would happen," Regina said, pacing in front of the fireplace in the apartment. David had left shortly after she arrived with a new focus on talking to some of Henry's classmates. Anna had taken charge of babysitting and Elsa was currently at Granny's to talk to some of the patrons who might have seen Henry and Robin that afternoon.

"Regina," Emma said. "That is not helping." She was typing furiously onto the phone in her hand, not looking up at the brunette who had yet to sit since learning Henry's whereabouts were unknown. "Think about Gold. Where could he be right now? What does he want from Henry?"

Regina's lipstick was a bit smeared from her worried tugs at her lips and her eyes reddened with recently shed tears. "I wish I knew," she said. "He's got a plan. I'm sure of that."

"His phone is off," Emma said softly to herself. She typed a few more things into her phone. It felt good to do something, but her coat was still on her and her boots had not even been loosened. She knew that she'd be out the door in moments.

"Miss Swan," Regina said in her characteristically cold voice. "Care to tell me what the plan is right now? You've lost my son. I'm not sure I want to fall in line with any plan you have, especially if you are keeping it a secret."

Emma glared at the woman, finally acknowledging her. "We're searching for him," Emma said. "My parents, Killian, Elsa…I'm trying to track his phone to see where we should pinpoint. And you are doing what exactly?"

She did not respond to the question, her hands settling on the school picture of Henry that was on Emma's mantle. "I knew that you couldn't protect him," she said. "You're too busy trying to protect everyone else and live your perfect life to worry about the biggest threat to Henry."

Jaw clenched and her stance ready for a fight, Emma squared off her shoulders. "Regina," she said as calmly and firmly as she could. "I don't have time to go into all the ways you are wrong. But suffice it to say that he was kidnapped on your watch not mine. Your job was to get him here."

"Are you saying that I failed you in some way?" Regina asked. "That this is my fault."

"I'm saying that you can't blame me," Emma answered. "If you were so concerned that Gold was going to do something, why didn't you pick him up? You have magic. Robin sure as hell doesn't. Why would you put them both in danger if you were so sure something was going to happen?" She frowned, not at Regina but for herself. It was a low blow and one that she would not normally have used in her own defense.

Regina's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. "You wouldn't dare," she hawked. "He was on his way here to Hook. Rumpelstiltskin could have just as easily stolen him from here with only a one-handed man guarding him. You wouldn't be so…"

"This isn't doing us any good," Mary Margaret said, entering the apartment. "Emma, what's the status on the phone?"

"It's off," she said. "No pings that I can find, anyway. I have a few other tricks to try, but it is going to take some time."

"We don't have time," Regina said, resuming her pacing.

Mary Margaret marched herself over to the coffee maker on the counter and began brewing another pot. She wordlessly pulled out bread and any ingredients she could find in the cupboards and pantry. Slapping together sandwiches, she turned her attention to Regina. "Have you heard anything from Robin?" she asked. "I thought that Killian was bringing him back here?"

"He wouldn't come back here," Regina answered, surprisingly calmly. "He and the pirate are out there looking for Henry."

Emma glanced up, her features softened for a moment and then became confused as she looked at her mother. "What are you doing?" Emma finally demanded. "Henry is missing and you're opening a restaurant?"

Snow looked at the assembly line she had created. "Granny and Ruby closed the diner," she explained. They are putting together search teams and going out to look for Henry. Your father and the dwarfs have been out there for a while now and God knows they won't come in until they have to do so. Archie, Marco, and some of the others are going door to door to talk to everyone. These people are going to need food. So while I warmed up a bit, I'm going to make sandwiches. The least we can do is feed people."

Regina coughed and Emma shot her a warning look not to make a comment about her mother's activity. "That's great, Mom," Emma said. "I'm going to go back out." She was opening the door when she heard Regina behind her.

"I'm going with you," she said, falling in line beside her.

_**I remember now why I hate writing stories with so many characters. I feel like I'm ADD and have everyone in a corner until I take them out to play. Please review and let me know you're still with me on this as I take it to the home stretch. Thanks!**_


	42. Chapter 42 - Normal

_**A/N: This chapter jumps around a bit, but there are reasons for that. All will become clear soon. Just wait for it…**_

Henry sat on the block of ice, feeling the coldness seep through the denim of his pants. His grandfather was muttering to someone over the phone, his words too low for Henry to hear or understand. He knew that whatever his grandfather's plan, time was running out for him to be rescued. Gold had said as much as he practically dragged Henry to this spot beside the ice wall.

"I'm hungry," Henry complained as his grandfather began to sort the items in his bag. "Seriously. I need food."

Gold ignored the pre-teen's complaints.

Henry wished he still had his backpack, but his grandfather had made him leave it behind at the docks. He knew that it was meant to be a decoy, a false sense of hope for his family that maybe he had been spirited away on a boat. They would search there for hours, hoping to find more clues of his whereabouts, but he would not be there.

He wanted to scream out, yell at his grandfather and insist to be taken home. But he knew those pleas would only infuriate Gold and do little to better the situation. His mother, Emma, had once told him that it was patience that was more important than courage in some situations. And Killian had taught him that patience sometimes meant looking for the right opportunities. So that's what he would do. He would look for the opportunity to escape.

***AAA***

Belle poured Granny a cup of cider that someone had brought by Emma's apartment, offering the older one a bit of sustenance. She was trying to ignore the eyes on her, the stares and whispers that she must know something since she was married to the Dark One. They never said anything directly to her, but the implications were all too obvious as she stood there next to Elsa and tried to be helpful.

Robin nodded at her in thanks as she handed him a cup to go with the sandwich he already had tucked in his hands. He had agreed to come in and warm himself up before heading out again at Regina's request. She was still trying to sort through some of the things in Henry's room at her house to see if there were any clues to his whereabouts.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noting the way she shivered and swayed a bit.

"I'm tired like everyone else," she admitted. "But Henry's the important thing right now." She noticed his flinch and realized that he was probably feeling the same amount of guilt.

"Wishing that we made different decisions doesn't really change the current situation," Robin told her. "We have to concentrate on what we can do now instead of what we could have done then. Henry's got a lot of people who love him. That's what matters. And one of these people are going to find him and bring him back home."

Belle smiled weakly. "I wish I could be more help," she said.

"We all do," Elsa said, interrupting from her spot.

***AAA***

Killian placed a blanket over her shoulders, his hand rubbing up and down her arm in an ineffective way to keep her warm as the sun lowered over the water. She wasn't sure where he had even found the blanket, but it hardly seemed important to ask. She noticed that he had his jacket back, but again that wasn't a question for the time being.

"You're about to collapse," he whispered, pulling her into him. "That won't do you or your boy a bit of good." She allowed the closeness for a moment, letting his body shield her from the wind blowing up off the water and chilling her even more. Then she pulled away.

"Maybe we should head back toward the woods," she said, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders as she turned and began the walk back to her car. "My gut tells me that's where they are right now."

Killian did not argue with her, falling in step beside her and letting her feel like she had control of something. The groups were dwindling a bit, but he still saw groups of four or five heading out in various locations and one group of seven that continually checked in with Emma's parents. Regina and Robin had left the docks about 30 minutes earlier. Elsa and Kristoff were back at the apartment handing out sandwiches and keeping track of the different groups.

David raised a questioning eyebrow as they approached the car, his own arm around his wife and her tired but frightened face looking to her daughter for answers. Killian shook his head, not wanting the prince to ask his daughter again if she was okay. She wasn't.

"Where now?" David asked, pulling his keys out and twirling the ring around one finger. "Back to the apartment?"

"Woods," Emma said, throwing the blanket in the backseat and sliding in behind the steering wheel. She did not look at any of them, cranking the car and putting both hands squarely on the wheel. Killian shut the door and rounded the car to jump in beside her.

"She looks like she's ready to drop," David said, catching Killian's arm with his hand. "Are you sure…"

Killian looked at her through the glass, watching her bottom lip tremble with the struggle to keep calm. "I don't know that I can stop her from looking," Killian said flatly. "She's determined to find Henry. If I have to carry her to do it, I will. I won't be the one who stops her."

Mary Margaret pulled David away, telling Killian that they would follow. He slid in beside her and let her drive away, tires protesting on the gravel. "Perhaps…" he began, waiting for her to do something. She could yell at him. She could scream about her own supposed failings. He just wanted to hear her react.

"Perhaps what?" she asked, swerving a bit on the road when she glanced at a boy about Henry's age. "What?"

"Perhaps the Dark One has taken Henry across the town line," Killian said, watching her process that information in her head. "We know that Henry is able to do it. And the Crocodile used to have a way so I doubt very much that he's not tried to find another."

Emma grunted a reply, angrily pressing her foot on the gas pedal. "That doesn't make my search any easier," she said. "I can find him if he's in this town. It can't be…How could he have gotten past the ice walls?"

"Swan," Killian said. "I don't doubt that you can find them. You will. I'm just thinking of the possibilities."

She pulled off the road a few feet away from the spray painted line, threw the car in park and stared out the window for a moment. Her hands still gripped the wheel. "This is how it is going to be, isn't it?" she questioned, her voice low. "You've told me to live in those quiet moments and my father's told me to enjoy the good ones, but I don't know that it is that easy. There's never going to be a moment that I can let my guard down and just enjoy it. You're getting hit by a car. Henry's missing. There are ice walls trapping us. Snow monsters chase us. Portals send us back in time. We end up in freaking Neverland. There are curses, spells, memory loss, witches…" She shook her head. "If we get Henry back, what promise is there that this won't happen again?"

His eyes did not meet hers, but she wasn't looking at him anyway. She was staring into the frosty darkness. "What's the alternative?" he asked her. "If you give up fighting, what happens? The villains win? And then what kind of life do you live with witches, the Dark One, Ice Queens, and whatever else strikes? I know you. You couldn't stand that life. You would hate it. You may have been given the moniker of the Savior because you are the product of true love, but it is more than just a name or a vocation. You protect people. You save them. Whether it is from imminent danger that you must squash or you must save them from themselves like you did with me, it is who you are and what you believe."

Ragged breaths came from her as she gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I don't want this," she said. "I don't want to get phone calls about this kind of stuff. I want normal. I want to come home to you and complain about work being boring. I want dinners with you where we aren't interrupted because of whatever villain is on the loose. I want to come home to you and Henry and watch stupid movies or teach you how to use the microwave. I want to go to Henry's school plays and soccer games. I want…"

"Emma," he whispered, pulling her to him and pressing her head to the spot between his neck and shoulder. She did not resist, her tears now falling and wetting his shirt and jacket. "You should have all those things and more."

"Was your life before more peaceful?" she asked. "I know you were a pirate, but did you have peaceful days?" Her face looked pale in the light from the moon bouncing off the ice. "I'm trying to picture it."

Killian chuckled. "There were moments," he said. "Nights when I could sit and feel the breeze coming from the water, the rocking of my ship, the smoothness of the wood under my hand. Those times made up for the fighting, the intrigue, the backstabbing, and the treachery. But you can't have one without the other. If you did, you'd never appreciate it." He felt her tighten her grip on him. "When we find Henry, you'll enjoy your moments with him even more. You'll smile even brighter on those mornings when he's laughing over breakfast or when he's got that look on his face from his studies confusing him."

Emma sighed, reluctantly pulling back as the headlights on her father's truck showed glared in her window. "I hope the peaceful and quiet moments keep coming," she said. "These others are no way to live."

***AAA***

Gold paced furiously by the wall, his hands splayed wide as though he were in some sort of evangelical church during revival. Henry watched silently, having moved from the ice to the cold ground in search of something less jarring to his senses.

His eyes flashed at Henry, acknowledging him for the first time in the last hour. "You see it, don't you?" he asked. "You see what they've done to me?"

Henry's mouth opened wide. "What did they…"

"I'm useless," the man said, shaking a bit as he stared upward. "That's how they wanted me."

_**Are you still with me? **_


	43. Chapter 43 - Close

_**Hope you enjoy this chapter. There is a lot going on so I hope I did it justice. Let's just say that not everything is as it appears. **_

The batteries on the flashlight were waning, the light coming out in weaker spurts. Killian's lantern was brighter so using that as an excuse she walked closer to him, their arms grazing each other as they stepped over the roots and rocks on the path. "How much farther should we venture?" he asked her at one point.

She knew this was crazy. There were no signs pointing her to her son, no evidence that Rumpelstiltskin or Henry were any place in the vicinity. "A little more," she said, casting a glance over her shoulder at her parents. She pointed ahead to a bit of a clearing and heard her mother groan a bit in frustration.

Killian used his hook to hold up a branch over their heads, shining the light against the dense foliage. Other than the rustling of dead leaves and the crunch of their steps, nothing was out of place. Usually there were signs when you hunted for someone, indications and clues. There was nothing here.

"Emma," her father said as he caught up to them. "It's late and perhaps we'd be better off trying in the morning." He glanced back at Mary Margaret who was leaning against a tree. "Your mother…"

"Go back," Emma said, keeping her eyes trained in front of her. "Maybe Killian wants to go too." She slapped the basically useless flashlight in her hand, coaxing it to give a bit more of its life. "I'm not giving up."

"No one is asking you to, love," Killian said, wrapping an arm around her. "We'll keep looking."

David glanced at his wife again, taking in her haggard appearance and his own lethargy. "It doesn't make sense to search this area at night," he said. "We'll just have to do it again the morning." He looked at his daughter and Killian, both with faces of pure determination. "Do what you have to do," he said. "I'm not sure if you know but there is a cabin near here. You can probably stop in there tonight if you need to do so for rest or to regroup." Killian glanced a bit too harshly at David and noted that the prince wordlessly left with his wife.

Emma stumbled a bit over an exposed root, gripping his arm to pull her back. She brushes it off, continuing on her way with no hesitation. It is her best imitation of her savior mode, all confidence and self-sureness. It isn't the real her, but the mask feels comfortable since she is about to grapple with the Dark One.

He heard the Crocodile's voice first, his jaw clenching in anticipation at the familiar sound. Pulling Emma back to him, he nodded in the direction of what he heard. She looked at him with wide eyes, having not heard anything herself. Killian is a patient man and held her there until the wind carries the voice back. It is weak and seems to be methodically announcing the lines of some sort of incantation. She gripped Killian harder as she heard it – hope flashing in her eyes before an anger settled over them.

She moved forward, her hands reaching up under her jacket and her sweater to pull out a small revolver. Killian recognized it, the cold metal fitting easily in her gloved hands. He watched her for a moment, almost in awe of the way she could move with such precision and menace. It is another side of her that he is glad to see.

The clearing was empty, as was the next bit of the path. Occasionally the voice would sound again, taunting and close. She held back her hands from reaching out for it, wanting to strangle the voice's owner. Killian was next to her, a partner and anchor in her search. She sputtered and cursed when they would come up empty, his reassurance always replacing the doubts her mind echoed.

"It must be a trick," he told her, swinging the lantern out in a half circle in front of them. There were no footprints on the ground still wet and muddy from melted snow. There were no lights in the trees to indicate anyone was up ahead. "It's…"

"It's my only chance right now," she told him, squaring off her shoulders again.

***AAA***

Anna had returned to the loft with the baby in tow only minutes before Mary Margaret and David had arrived. The infant was sleeping soundly, as was Kristoff who was camped out on the couch in the living room area. She did not hide her disappointment when David shook his head to her question about finding Henry.

"I'm sorry about that," she said softly, uncharacteristically brief as she headed upstairs.

Mary Margaret barely got herself undressed as she crashed onto the bed and pulled the covers up, hooded eyes looking toward the crib where he son was currently sleeping. She'd been there before, losing Emma so soon after birth and then the drama with Neal's disappearance with the Wicked Witch. Her heart ached and twisted for Emma, who had not had much of a chance to be a mother herself.

David was removing his watch and toeing off his boots when she turned over to look at him. "We did the right thing?" she asked. "There wasn't any sense in us continuing?"

He frowned, his fingers struggling with the clasp on his watch. "It's pitch black and we have no clues to where Gold has him," David said half-heartedly. "You think we should have stayed? You were dead on your feet and you're practically asleep now."

"No need to get defensive," his wife said, curling her arm around a pillow. "I was just asking. I feel like we should be doing more."

He gets up from the edge of the bed and walks past a sleeping Kristoff to the kitchen table where Elsa is nursing a glass of milk. He smirks for a moment, realizing that most people in his life would be drinking something much stronger than that at a time like this. "Can't sleep?" he asks, flinching as the chair squeaks on the floor.

The blonde woman is holding the glass tightly in her hands, tiny ice crystals forming on the top of the white substance. She looks at him with her wide eyes and sighs. "I feel like I can't help," she said. "Emma is falling apart inside and I'm making sandwiches or questioning random people at the diner before they closed. I should be…"

David nodded. "If you figure out what we should be doing, let me know," he said. "I've got a wife making me feel guilty and a daughter who is wandering around the woods at night with a pirate to look for her son."

***AAA***

The cabin was exactly where David had described it, the darkened structure hidden away amongst the trees from plain view on the path. Killian knew she saw it and even paused to let her make the decision that maybe they should stop there for a respite from the searching, dark and cold. She was pretending she didn't see it, ignoring his slowed steps and gentle nudge in that direction.

"Do you need to stop?" she asked. "You could wait here…"

"Without you?" he questioned. "I hardly think that will happen, love." His hand lifted the lantern up to inspect the building's sagging roof. "But I would suggest we look inside. It could be…"

"You think they are here?" Emma asked. "We haven't heard his voice in an hour. I doubt we're even going in the right direction anymore." She frowned as he ignored the comment and headed up the few steps to the front door. He shot her a look over his shoulder.

"Fine," she grumbled. Her shoes slapped against the wooden planks of the steps. "You win. We'll go inside." She opened the door and took a step inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark.

"Miss Swan," Gold's voice declared before she could even spot him. He had seen her and did not allow one modicum of fear to flash in his features. "You've come after the child?"

Henry was off to the side and looked healthy but panicked. His eyes quickly turned between the two rescuers, unsure what they plan to do. Killian tried to catch his eye, mouthing the word wait to him behind Emma.

Reaching for the gun she had placed back earlier, Emma stared down her son's kidnapper. "Hand him over," she said in a cool even tone. "Give me back my son."

Rumple's laugh was more of a cackle and he sneers at the two of them. "I don't think so, dearie," he said with a flash of the previous version of himself. "Your boyfriend knows that you must fight for what you want in this life."

Emma's finger raised to the trigger, her hand still shaking but steadier than before. "You don't want me to do that," she warned. "You don't want me to fight." His hands were still in front of him, fingers splayed and his mouth in a sneer. She waited for it, the burst of magic to hit her and knock her back. It had to come, but the waiting continued.

"Crocodile," Killian said, his voice barely above a loud whisper. "What are you trying to do with the boy? What is your price here?"

Emma did not lower the gun, taking a step toward Henry, she kept her eyes trained on Rumpelstiltskin. "Don't try anything stupid," she told him. "You're already facing a lot of trouble here."

Each step seemed to be in slow motion as she moved in a diagonal line toward her son with Killian stepping toward the Dark One. She almost told him to stop, to stay where he was, but she didn't. Maybe she should have or maybe it would have led to regret. She didn't have time to consider those consequences.

Gun still in one hand and her other reaching out blindly to grab her son's hand, she yanked him toward her. His frame was almost as tall as hers, but she still pulled him to her, cradling him in one arm with her eyes on the man by the fireplace.

"Mom," Henry whispered. "He's not got his magic." The words were startling, but so lowly said that Emma tried to pretend there was no way Rumpelstiltskin had heard them. She watched his face for signs of recognition. But the most telling was that he was not responding to Killian's approach at all.

"Killian stop," Emma said, pushing her son toward him and giving a tilt of her head to the door. "Just go."


	44. Chapter 44 - Choke

_**First, let me apologize for the late delay. I have had two deaths in my family in recent days, as well as a huge issue at work that required my attention. So I've not been able to give this chapter the attention it needed. I'm still not sure I got the tone right, but here it is. Thanks again to everyone who has read, reviewed or followed. It is a great escape. **_

Belle and Ruby were only a few feet away from the cabin when they saw Henry rushing toward them. His face was pale except a few red blotches from exertion and cold and his hands were gripping tightly as he ran straight into Belle's arms. She cradled him for a moment against her, looking over his shoulder at Ruby with a wide mouthed expression.

"Henry?" she asked. "What is wrong? Where's…"

"My grandfather's in there," he said a bit breathlessly, pointing toward the darkened cabin. "My mom is too. Killian's going back in after her."

Henry pulled back from Belle and saw her mouth the word no. She still had his shoulders in her grip, but she was backing away from him too. "Is that door…" she began. "Is it the only way in the cabin?"

Ruby pulled Henry away from her, realizing what the other woman was questioning. "Henry," she said, a bit softer than her friend. "I want you to wait out here. We're going to go…"

Henry looked between the two women, his hand clutching the cell phone that Killian had thrust into his hands. "He doesn't have his magic now," he told them. "I don't know the full story, but something about the hat." The young boy shook his head with confusion that echoed that of his audience. "He tried to put the Snow Queen in the hat. He got her in there but something went wrong…"

Belle nodded knowingly, looking to Ruby with determination. "That's good news for us," she declared.

"I don't know," Ruby answered, helping to sit Henry down behind a clump of trees just off the path. "It could mean he's even more dangerous. He's got to be desperate at this point." Belle frowned, looking back at the house and seeing a brief but bright flash of light. "You could stay out here with Henry. I know that this is hard on…"

"No," Belle said with a firm shake of her head. "I'm going in there with them. There is something I can do." Without bothering to see if Ruby was behind her, the young woman strode purposefully toward the cabin and up the sagging steps. It wasn't until she reached the door that she noticed Ruby's hand on her back. "Thank you," she whispered, gripping the doorknob tightly.

Through the wood they could hear the sound of Emma's voice echoing in the mostly empty house.

"I said move over there," Emma demanded forcefully. With the tip of her gun she pointed to the straight back chair that sat in the corner near what had been a kitchen. "Move!"

Killian was at her side, stealing glances at both in his attempt to determine a course of action. Emma was strictly business as she moved a few steps closer, her legs finally resting in a widened stance, one foot bracing in front of the other. He drew in a sharp breath as Emma's finger hovered over the trigger.

Rumpelstiltskin's movements were stiff and slow as she turned his body, still keeping his eyes on the sheriff and walked maladroitly toward the chair indicated. He sneered briefly which only seemed to infuriate Emma all the more. "Don't even think about it," she warned him, not specifying what she assumed him to want or plan. His face changed back to the picture of innocence.

"Where's the dagger?" she questioned him, again moving toward him with precision. "Where?"

Killian noticed it first, the long silver item resting beside a bag. "Swan," he said, attempting to get her attention. "Is that…"

Emma haltingly switched her focus for a split second, but it was enough for Rumpelstiltskin, whose movements drastically improved as he stood and shoved the chair toward her. She stumbled back, not so much hurt by the wooden frame as stunned. "Stop!" she screamed at him, watching his thin frame lunge for the dagger just as Killian did the same.

If it was true that the Dark One had somehow lost his powers, Emma was not sure of the significance of the dagger. But it still served as a weapon, something that she did not want any perpetrator to gain access to for her own safety. She gasped as she saw Killian reach it first, grasping its handle in his hand just as Rumpelstiltskin barreled into him, striking him just below his chest. The pirate staggered for a moment, a look of surprise on his features, but he did not loosen his grip on the dagger. Seeing that the pirate was a bit off balance by the attack, Rumpelstiltskin again surged forward, sending Killian backward to the floor. The older man was on top of him.

Emma crossed the room in a mere moment, ripping Rumpelstiltskin's arms backward and pulling him in a most awkward arch. Though limited in his mobility, Rumpelstiltskin still swung his hands in a desperate attempt to gain access to his prized possession. Emma's gun spun out of reach on the floor.

The door creaked loudly as the two women entered, Belle rushing in first with her steps fumbling on the uneven boards. "Rumple stop!" she yelled, her hands instinctively helping Emma to pull the man back. Ruby was quick to grab the gun that had been kicked toward her, holding it delicately in her hands by the thin silver handle.

Belle and Emma quickly gained control of the man, pulling him backward into a heap with the two of them grasping his desperately flailing limbs. The man's face was sheer panic and terror as Killian stood with the dagger in hand, holding it similar to the way that Ruby was barely grasping the gun. Rumpelstiltskin bucked and twisted against the two women ferociously.

"Stand back," Emma ordered Belle harshly, both women letting go of the man. He was stunned for a moment, unsure why he could now move. Belle backed away, tripping over her feet until she felt Ruby's arms grasp her and turn her away. Emma threw the two women a look before glancing at Killian briefly. Hands raised, she felt the warmth of her own magic flood through each cell in her body as a blast of light emanated from her fingertips and sent the Dark One up against the wall.

She held him there, using the force of magic built up with in her, seeming stronger as she thought about Henry and everyone else affected by Rumpelstiltskin's deals and schemes. The man's face turned white and then ashen from the pressure she exerted, his breathing labored and choking.

Her words tumbled out as if uncontrolled, screaming at the man about the pain and suffering he had caused all in the false pretense of Baelfire and Belle. She left nothing out, including creating the very curse that had left her alone in a world and her loved ones without their memories. She blamed him, swore at him, and cried over the evil she knew he had inflicted both intentionally and through his deception.

"Emma," Killian said from her side. She did not answer, staring into the face of a man she had tried more than once to believe. "Emma, look at me, love."

She did not move, holding the Dark One in place and essentially choking him with the magic around his neck. But she did not flinch as Killian placed his hand on her shoulder after passing the dagger to a crying Belle. "Emma," he said again. "Don't do this. You're not…"

"I'm not what," she said angrily. "I'm not strong enough? I'm not entitled? I'm not what, Killian?" She squinted her eyes into the light that came from her. "I'd love to know."

"Love, this isn't you," he said, moving his hand to her face. She shook his hand away. "You're more than strong enough. You have every right to be angry and to hate this man in front of you. Nobody could deny that. But you're not the person who kills or hurts someone."

There was something in his voice that struck her, a wistful regret that punctuated his tone. She felt the cadence of his voice wash over her, the magic lessening a bit. Rumple's strangled cough was replaced with awkward breaths. "Killian, he…"

"I know," he said. "You'll get no veneration for the Crocodile from me. Alas, I am thinking of you, love. You're a good person. One of the best. And one of the reasons that you are such a worthy person is that you are even tempered. You are fair, just, and you expect that in others. Even when someone has wronged you, you don't go straight to the vengeful actions that can mar your character and your heart."

"Killian," she said finally letting her focus shift toward him. "You aren't begging me to spare Rumpelstiltskin's life, are you?"

Killian chuckled, looking across at the man he despised with such ferocity that it had ruled his head and heart for the majority of his long life. "I don't fail to see the irony in that," he told her. "But I'm asking you to think about it first. You are a strong woman, Swan. One of the strongest I have ever known. But it isn't strength that allows you to kill or harm someone. It's fear."

Her throat felt as though it was closing. "We're not safe until he's dead," Emma protested, thrust forth more power to hold him in place. "I can't let him hurt Henry or you or my parents or…"

"I know," he told her. "We won't let him. I promise you that, love. I promise. But I don't want you to carry around the cloud of guilt and regret that you killed him. I don't want that for you. I don't want you to always know that you were able to do this. You're so much stronger than this. You're better than that."

Emma sobbed again, her mind weighing Killian's words with her own desire. Slowly she let the pressure and the intensity of her hold decrease. Still held in place, he was no longer being choked or threatened. Emma's eyes, which were brimming with tears alternated between Killian and Rumpelstiltskin. "I…"

"Emma," Belle said, biting out the name between her sobs. "Let me do it. Let me talk to him."

Emma's mouth went dry and she nodded her head, stepping aside to allow the other woman access to her estranged husband.

_**I just realized I left poor Henry out in the woods alone while all this was going on…whoops. Please let me know what you think.**_


	45. Chapter 45 - Priority

_**This is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I needed to move toward wrapping this up. I promise more fluff and happiness soon. **_

Emma had memories of cradling her son in her arms, chasing away nightmares and fretting over fevers. They were fake memories, but she still held to them with the same sentimentality of a mother whose child had outgrown such things. So when they emerged from the cabin and Henry had thrown himself into her arms, she had cherished that moment probably a beat too long. With her gloved hands, she framed his face and studied the worried expression he gave her.

"You're okay, right," she asked him, giving him a once over. "I mean he didn't hurt you…"

Henry shook his head quickly. "I'm fine, Mom," he told her. "I'm just hungry and cold."

Ruby handed Killian the gun she had been holding, practically shoving it into his hands before she turned to ruffle Henry hair. "Sorry," she said with a shrug. "I don't get to hang out with many kids and I guess I always wanted to do that."

Henry laughed, but turned back to his mom. "Why isn't Belle out here?" he asked, looking at the cabin. "Is she okay?"

"She wanted a moment to talk to him," Ruby explained. "I'll go back in after we give her a chance." The statuesque brunette explained, watching Emma's reaction.

Killian had protectively supported Emma with one arm draped across her shoulders. His attention turned to her, he did not hear the sounds approaching them or Ruby's questions about how much time they should give Belle. He just watched for Emma's reactions, gauging them and responding as he thought appropriate.

"Emma!" David called out as he rushed toward them with Mary Margaret, Elsa, and Anna on their heels. Kristoff joined the group a few moments later, looking a bit confused but eager to join in the brief interlude of hugs. Henry and Emma were both embraced immediately, but both laughed as David hugged Ruby and Killian both before turning back to Emma to hug her again.

As Ruby and Henry took turns explaining what had happened, Emma took a few steps toward the cabin with Elsa on her right side and Killian on her left. She took a deep but shaky breath, seeing the faint glow of Killian's lantern still inside the cabin. Belle's voice could no longer be heard. "I think I should…"

Killian nodded, not waiting for her to finish the sentence. He guided her up the steps and to the door as Elsa pushed back the others with a simple wait a moment statement. Emma's hands were in knots, gripping each other and then letting go as Killian swung open the door.

"Belle," she whispered, rushing forward to see her friend kneeling on the floor with her shoulders shaking from the sobs. "Belle," she said again, scooping her into an embrace.

"He's not going to hurt anyone again," Belle said in a low tone. "Never again." She did not look up as she said it. Her eyes were half closed and her face stained from the tears. "I was thinking what we could do with him."

Emma pulled back to look at Belle, unsure what the woman would suggest. "Okay," Emma prodded. "What do you think?" Rumpelstiltskin was quiet in front of them, almost curled into a ball. Every once in a while he would moan or let out a tiny cry.

"The hospital," Belle said. "The basement where I was locked up for 28 years. I think that is where he should go until…"

"Until what?" Killian asked, reminding the two of his presence. He was standing there behind them, protectively close but not intrusively so. Later when she would think about it, she would remember him supporting her and being here as her anchor to a world she had come to know and accept as her own. "Perhaps we should do this with a bit more haste," he said, his eyes weary and questioning the condition of the Dark One.

Belle nods and wipes her face with her hands. "I've got it," she said. "If we could get him out of here…"

David cleared his throat from the door way, obviously having bypassed Elsa's guarding of the situation. With Kristoff's help, the two men lugged a weak and slack Rumpelstiltskin out the door and toward the truck with Belle following behind. Mary Margaret saw the scene unfolding and rushed to Belle's side, walking beside her. As they passed the crowd outside, Ruby and Elsa attempted to shield Henry from the view of his grandfather being carried like that.

Alone in the cabin, Emma let her eyes roam. He could read it on her face, the event replaying in ever blink and every breath. She was sinking into that feeling of failure and relief. She felt unfulfilled by the experience, as it had not truly been her victory. But yet her son was outside, safe and secure. "He probably called everyone he knew…" she said, fumbling with her jacket's zipper. "I…"

"Just breathe," he told her, slowly approaching and pulling her towards him. "It's fine now. Your boy is safe. They are taking away that bloody awful…"

She placed her hand against his mouth to silence him. "Is it really over?" she asked. "Because it doesn't feel like it. We've been confused and fooled before. We've felt safe and then the other shoe drops. I don't know how to feel safe."

He was silent as she clung to his shoulders, still the worry from before, the anger, the fear, and relief spilling out of her. "I can't let myself believe that…"

"Nobody's asking you to believe the danger is dissipated," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. "It's not in your nature to wake up in the morning and think wonderful thoughts about a mundane day. You'll always have that part of you that is suspicious, cynical, and distrustful about what the day will bring, love. It's my challenge to make you forget those things, but I'd never think myself capable of vanquishing those thoughts from your mind completely. For as much as I want to love and protect you, encourage and appreciate you, I can't change you. I wouldn't want to do that. Why would I want to change what I love so much?"

She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and feeling his hand on her back, his breath on her face. She could hear his voice, soft and strong at the same time. "Home?" she asked, able to utter the one word. It was enough, he led her out, picking up the lantern and headed them toward the waiting group.

***AAA***

Henry had spent the majority of the day in bed, but Emma had realized that he was actually playing his handheld video game under the cover rather than sleeping off the experience. Elsa had taken charge of his recovery, routing most visitors to come back at another time and posting updates to email for Regina, Belle, David, and Mary Margaret. Emma had called Dr. Hopper for his advice, but Killian pulled her back from scheduling any appointments until they could actually see how the boy would react.

Emma had threatened to hibernate, refusing to come out of the bedroom until Spring, but Killian had nixed that suggestion too. It only had taken a reminder that she had about half a dozen other responsibilities to remind her that she was not allowed the luxury of such things. Still he attempted to pamper her with her favorite foods, a foot rub, and even running her a bubble bath. She had protested that she didn't need any of those, but she was enjoying the attention from him.

She was sitting at the dining table with her lap top when she heard him arrive back at the apartment. Her brow was creased in concentration as she re-read the statement she had been preparing to give to the judge in Rumpelstiltskin's competency hearing. She allowed herself only a moment for him to kiss her and even indulged as his lips left hers to trail down the side of face and neck. "Killian –" she finally protested, pulling away from him and dragging the laptop closer. "I have to work on this."

He frowned, but knew better than to argue with her. Instead he lifted the bag in his hand to indicate that he had picked up dinner. "Perhaps a break is in order, Swan," he said. "Elsa's out with Anna and Henry vacated his room to go with Regina. Dinner?"

She looked torn for a moment, her creased brow and arched eyebrows watching the bag dangle from his hook just next to the computer with the blinking cursor. He wasn't pressuring her, just reminding her that sometimes there were choices and sometimes it was okay to choose the one that benefited you. She closed the laptop and set it aside. "What's for dinner?" she asked.


	46. Chapter 46 - Blessing

_**This is bittersweet. This story is coming to an end – just a few more chapters left. I'll miss it, as it has been fun to write. But I have plans for another story and maybe even a sequel to this one if I can work though the idea. **_

Elsa handed Emma another file to place back into the box. "I'm glad this part is over," she admitted. "I have paper cuts and my eyes are seeing double from reading census reports. I'm grateful for all your help though."

Emma nodded distractedly, trying to fit another thick folder in with the rest. "This all fit before," she said. "You'd think…" Finally the binder slid into place and Emma was able close the lid and remove the carton from the desk. "Next…"

Elsa hesitated as she lifted an empty box to the desk. "I know you hate for me to ask, but are you okay?" Elsa began. "I wasn't in there when everything happened, but I was talking to Belle and Ruby…"

"Fine," Emma said, removing the lid and beginning to place more files into the confines. "I'm fine. Gold was defeated. He's locked up. The court will make that permanent tomorrow. Henry's fine. Everyone's fine."

Elsa bit her lip lightly. "And you…"

"Belle told you about the Ice Queen?" she asked. "About the malfunction with the hat?"

Nodding, Elsa added a few more stacks to the box. "Why didn't we realize?" she asked. "We should have…"

Emma kept her head down as she looked for a home for a loose paper among the organized files. "According to Rumpelstiltskin, her powers dissipated before they were able to be consumed by the hat. His attempt to capture them resulted in his own powers weakening significantly."

"And where did they go?" Elsa asked. "Magic is not something that can be destroyed. It can change forms and transfer, but it never completely goes away."

Emma sighed heavily, her hands shaking slightly as she slid the loose page in with similar documents. "Part of her power went into the ice wall," Emma explained. "I think we can deal with that, but who knows."

Elsa nodded. "And…"

"The sleepwalking," Emma said. "According to Rumpelstiltskin that was Ingrid's way of trying to contact me. To make me aware of the powers that she was trying to spread to us." Looking up, her light eyes caught Elsa's. "Scary idea, hmmph?"

"Indeed," Elsa remarked. "And did you gain any of these powers?"

Emma lidded the next box. "I hope not," she admitted softly. "Magic isn't something I truly love having. So to add more to it…"

Elsa nodded, placing a hand over Emma's hand. "Then we'll just have to see." The two women both waited a moment. "It could be a blessing instead of a curse. Just don't let this…"

"Let this what?" Emma asked pulling her hand away.

"You had your walls up before," Elsa said, moving to grab more of the empty boxes. "You were hesitant to trust. You hated people knowing the real you. You did not want to accept that people could care about you, let alone love you."

"And I didn't want to accept my magic," Emma finished for her.

"It is hard to accept it in ourselves," Elsa admitted. "We pray at night to be normal. We just want to be like everyone else."

"Sounds familiar," Emma said.

"I just hope you know that you have wonderful parents who love you, a son who thinks you are the greatest, Killian who couldn't be more in love with you if he tried, friends who care about you," Elsa said. "And you're very lucky in that way. I know that this is scary, but it's okay. No matter the result of what Ingrid did, you're going to be fine. You're still Emma."

"It's hard to let other people accept me when I don't want to accept it myself," Emma admitted. "Even before I knew I had any magical abilities at all, I doubted that anyone could really love me or care about me."

"Then maybe it's time that you think about those people who do," Elsa said. "These aren't stupid people. Don't treat them like their opinion of you is wrong."

***AAA***

A bit more of the snow had melted as David sent his wife off to work the next morning. Emma had called earlier to say that she was planning to go in early so he had a few hours of peace before he would be swamped with paperwork and petty crimes. A cup of coffee in one hand, a newspaper in the other, David sat on the couch with his foot bouncing the baby carrier. Taking only his second sip of the drink, David heard the incessant knocking at the door that interrupted his reverie.

"I guess it would be too much to ask for you to answer it," he muttered to his sleeping son. Dropping the paper on the couch and still cradling the cup, he walked over and swung the door open wide to see his daughter's boyfriend standing there with a sheepish expression on his face. "Hook," David said in a bit of a surprise.

Killian smiled back, seemingly not noticing the surprise on David's face. "Good morning," Killian answered. "I thought I might bring you some breakfast."

David's expression did not change, but he moved aside to let Killian enter the apartment. "Snow was anxious to get to work this morning so she didn't cook," he said, watching the pirate unpack a foam container of waffles and begin divvying them up between two plates. "I was just going to have coffee."

"Aye," Killian said, turning to the cabinet to find the syrup. "Your wife and I ran into each other this morning. She said you were probably drinking coffee and thinking about bundling the lad up to go to Granny's. I saved you a step." He held a plate up under the prince's nose and grinned. "Emma claims they are better than the frozen ones."

"That they are," David agreed, taking the plate out of Killian's hands and settling it before himself. "I…well…Thank you?"

Killian laughed as he dug into his own meal. "I know you can cook," he said, dragging a perfectly cut bite through the syrup. "But I presumed that you might have your hands full with your son to do much in the ways of breakfast."

David smiled between bites, his fork hovering over the plate. "I appreciate it," he admitted, sneaking a look back at his sleeping son. "Neal has a tendency to sleep in short shifts. We have to enjoy the quiet while we can."

Killian nodded as though he knew what it was like living with an infant. "Speaking of quiet…"

Not holding back his own chuckle, David shrugged. "Anna and Kristoff left early this morning to talk to someone at the church about the wedding," he said. "You are right. This loft is very quiet without her…enthusiasm."

The loft was quiet without Anna, who despite her questions and interruptions, usually livened the place up with her animated reactions to everything from technology to food. David had to admit it was a nice change from some of the brooding and emotionally resistant residents of Storybrooke, but it was still tiring. Her voice usually echoed through the loft space showing them something new to her or asking about something they had said in passing. Kristoff's patient and bemused expressions were the best reactions to her, but David had tried his best to enjoy the novelty.

"Any leads on finding a portal for them?" he asked. "Elsa seems to be growing more worried about her kingdom though I know she has become more accustomed to her life here."

"Regina said she was looking into it," David answered with a shrug, swallowing another bite of waffle. "And with Rumpelstiltskin out of commission, I'd say that Emma and Elsa are turning their attention toward that issue now."

"That they are," Killian agreed. He paused before taking another bite. "Should there be a portal found, I would hope that there could perhaps be a way for Emma and Elsa to keep in touch. Emma is quite fond of her and I fear the separation might be a bit hard for both of them."

David stood at the sound of his young son's whimper rushing over to replace the pacifier that had become dislodged and lifting the wiggling infant into his arms. The two rejoined Killian. "I think you might be right, but for now we have to find a solution to get them back where they are needed. A kingdom without its rulers is not very safe for the people."

The baby settled in David's arms, his eyes fighting a losing battle to stay open. "What about you?" Killian asked tentatively. "If presented the opportunity, would you wish to go back to the Enchanted Forest permanently? I realize that you had that one year back, but if it was a more voluntary solution?"

Balancing Neal in one arm as he took another go at slicing through the waffles, David's smile faded. "I can't say I haven't considered it many times," he said. "It is my home. It's where I grew up and where I thought I would spend the rest of my life. But here in Storybrooke I have all that I need. I have my wife, my daughter, my son, my grandson, my friends and it is not a bad place to be. Should the opportunity to return arise, I know that the decision would not be an easy one. Emma would not be very anxious to go."

"Aye," Killian said with a grin. "Emma's experiences in the Enchanted Forest were not comfortable ones for her."

"And you?" David asked. "What would you do? You were anxious to get back to pirating during that year. Wouldn't you jump at the chance to rule the seas again? Doesn't a part of you want that?"

Killian's own expression dropped his eyes studying the plate without focus. "I wouldn't leave here without Emma," he said finally. "No amount of adventure or treasure would be worth the pain of the loss of her. So I would have to defer to her wishes on that."

David smiled tentatively, placing his fork back on the plate. "So we've talked about our friends. We've talked about the baby. We've even discussed hypothetical situations where we could return to our roots." He watched Killian shift a bit in his chair. "Do you mind telling me what this is truly about? We have come to a good place in our interactions, Hook, but you just brought me breakfast and are sitting there like a kid waiting to ask a favor of his teacher. What is going on?"

"Right to the point?" Killian asked. "I wanted to talk to you about Emma. Specifically about my asking Emma to marry me."

David swallowed back a cough, sputtering a bit as the pirate calmly handed him a napkin. "I…well…Is that something you think she's ready to discuss?" Despite the fact that the man in front of him was talking about his daughter, David hugged his son to his chest a bit tighter.

"She may very well knock me out again should I bring it up," Killian admitted with a laugh. "But I wanted to broach the subject with you first. No matter her answer or her trepidation, I assure you that I won't leave her side. I…"

David cocked his head to the side and looked at Killian's sincere countenance. "I can't say that your intentions are a surprise," David said. "You've been honest about your feelings toward my daughter for some time. And as much as I tried and thought I was right to label you as someone intent upon hurting my daughter, you have proven otherwise."

"I would never hurt her," Killian answered. "Besides the fact that she, your grandson, you, or your wife would probably assault me in turn, my own heart would break to see her in pain. I plan to spend the rest of my life with her and making sure that she never feels a minute of pain again." His hand raised to scratch at his temple, a nervous tick that did not go unnoticed.

"She's quite lucky to have you care so much for her," David acknowledged. "I won't pretend to tell you that I understand my daughter or that I even know her like I should. I missed most every milestone and will live with that regret forever. And I can't even begin to imagine the damage that has done to her."

"You are doing all you can to repair that damage now," Killian told him. "She knows that. She knows that you and your wife did what you had to do in a situation that was unwinnable otherwise."

David nodded, looking down to his sleeping son. "We can make repairs," he said. "We can talk. We can look at the few photographs and trinkets that she has of her past. All of those things help us build something out of what equates to a shattered relationship. But it will never be whole again. Once the glass breaks, you can fix it, but the cracks and imperfections remain."

Killian saw the man before him blink back unshed tears. "Imperfections and all, I know that she cherishes the relationships she has been able to build here. It may have come decades after she wanted it, but she has a family now."

David let out a half sob half laugh, smiling a bit brighter. "You're lucky, Hook," he said with a purposeful nod. "My daughter approaches those of us in her life with nervousness and fear. She's been let down by us in the past and expects that to happen again. But you're different. She may worry that you'll leave her. She may fear that she'll be hurt by you, but you haven't ever proven her right on that. In her own cautious way, she has always trusted you."

Killian laughed uneasily. "Your interpretation of that is interesting, mate," he answered. "Your daughter has tied me up, held a knife to my throat, threatened me, and many other things that would say she did not always trust me."

Chuckling, David pointed toward the coffee pot to ask the man before him to pour them each another cup. "She is tough," he said proudly. "And as she has told me more than a few times, she can take care of herself." He held up the cup after it was filled and took another sip. "I guess what I mean is that your relationship with her doesn't have the baggage and damage that others have with her. You're very lucky in that way."

Considering the prince's words, he drew out another sip of his own coffee. "I'm fortunate that she has let me a part of her life," he agreed. "And I will be grateful for that privilege every day that she allows me."

David watched him for a moment, hoping that maybe somewhere inside the pirate was a bit nervous and worried to be asking permission to marry Emma. "I suppose I should have some conversation with you about being worthy of her," he said. "Some long quiz about your intentions and your purpose. But I don't think that is all that appropriate at the present. Emma wouldn't be with you if you weren't worthy of her. And I doubt the opposite is true either. So if you are brave enough to ask her and brave enough to tell me about it, I am going to say that you have my blessing and my sincere wish for luck in asking my daughter."


	47. Chapter 47 - Trial

_**I can't say enough about the great feedback, messages, and more that I have received about this story. Thank you so much. It has meant a lot to me. **_

Elsa held up a black skirt and dark green sweater, pushing them against a squirming Emma and frowning at the combination. "You must have something that would be perfect," she muttered, turning back to the closet as Emma tossed the items onto the reject pile that was currently a mountain of color on her bed. Killian had already abandoned the mission for the perfect outfit and told Emma he'd be back later to walk with her into the courthouse for Rumpelstiltskin's hearing that afternoon. She thought she remembered kissing his cheek and telling him she'd see him later.

"Maybe I should wear pants," Emma suggested when Elsa pulled out a strapless black number that she immediately discarded. "I don't think I own a dress appropriate for court."

"Don't have a suit of some kind?" Mary Margaret asked from her spot on the _floor_ where she was currently appraising Emma's shoe collection. "Business-like and powerful? Maybe a pin stripe?"

Elsa turned her face downward to look at Mary Margaret. "If she did, I would have already pulled that out. We're running low on options here. I'm thinking a formal gown isn't going to be appropriate."

Emma grimaced as she looked at the pile. "I don't spend this much time getting ready for a date," Emma said loudly. "This is ridiculous."

Giving up on the walk in closet, Elsa returned to the mountain of clothes. As she dug, Mary Margaret offered suggestions and the women finally agreed on a black skirt that hit Emma just at the knee. Adding a burgundy top and textured tights, her mother paired the outfit with some of her favorite shoes.

"You look great," Elsa said, adding a scarf to the mix and then removing it. "Strong."

"I need to be," Emma said, glancing at herself in the mirror. "I have to be the strong one in this. Belle's going to have to speak, but this is personal for her. I have to pretend like this is just another job." She made a so-so motion to her mother's silent question if she liked the outfit. "I have to forget that he tried to hurt my son. I have to forget he would have gladly killed Killian. I…I have to pretend that he's just another perpetrator."

Mary Margaret got up from the floor of the closet and ran a quick hand over her pants. "I could go with you," she said. "Anna said she'd stay with the baby. I know that David will be there, but sometimes…"

"Mom," Emma said, holding up a pair of earrings. "That's sweet, but I'm fine. Killian is insisting on going. Dad will be there. Henry's testimony is first so I will have to be there for him too. I swear it is fine. I'm just a little nervous."

"It's no wonder," Mary Margaret said, helping to smooth out the shirt that Emma wore. "You'll be fine though."

Elsa nodded in agreement, her blonde hair bouncing. "Or as Hook will be sure to tell you, 'you're bloody brilliant," she giggled at her own impression and sent the three women into mild hysterics.

When Killian arrived to escort Emma to the courthouse, she was reapplying her makeup from having cried it off in laughter. He wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but she assured him that she was fine and winked back at a smiling Elsa. Offering her his hand, he walked with her the few blocks to the courthouse that sat just off the main road in town. He had only been there one time in the past, as it usually remained locked tight except the one week a month when court was in session.

"Small turn out," he said to her as she slipped in to sit next to her father on the second row. He sat down next and noted that Regina was sitting on the row behind them with Robin and Henry. Ruby had come straight from the diner and taken a seat next to Belle. The only others in the courtroom were Dr. Whale and Dr. Hopper. He squeezed her left hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it softly. She was in the midst of talking to her father about their joint testimony but paused to smile at his gesture.

"I just want this to be over," Emma said as he father walked up to discuss something in private with the court clerk. "I can't take much more of it."

Killian tucked her against him. "You know better than that," he told her. "You're stronger than any of this." He waved his hooked hand about the room. "I'd never wish it for you, but you could survive this a 1,000 times over."

"Let's not test that theory," Emma said, leaning forward to touch Belle's shoulder. "Have you heard anything yet?" she asked her friend.

Belle's face was emotionless and her hands sat folded in her lap. "Nothing," she said. "They haven't let me see…" She never finished the sentence because just then the guards led the man into the courtroom. He was shackled, but instead of a prison jumpsuit, he wore a hospital gown and robe.

"Oh…" Emma said, sucking in her breath. She could feel Killian's grip tighten on her. Briefly she considered how long it had been since someone had just supported her, cared about her reactions and emotions. She was usually on the outside looking in, a comfortable if not lonely place for her to be. So when she felt a tear escape from her eyes, she was more shocked that Killian noticed it first and wiped it away gently.

The proceedings were exceedingly boring and drawn out. Each witness had to go over the same information numerous times. Henry did better than Emma could have ever hoped, speaking clearly and succinctly at both lawyer's questions. She noted that he never referred to Rumpelstiltskin by one of his many names or as his grandfather during the testimony. He shot a few glances toward Emma, Killian, Regina, and David, but never did he look toward the defense table. Once he finished, he ran straight for them, embracing both of his mothers in turn.

David's testimony was straight forward and direct. He kept things professional, again only referring to Rumpelstiltskin as the subject or suspect. There was no hint at humor or compassion as he described the arrest and hospitalization, including his brief description of the drive back to the hospital where Rumpelstiltskin had screamed out his plans to destroy everyone. Upon finishing, he stopped to squeeze both Emma and Belle's hands before moving to the back of the room where he sat on a far bench alone.

Following Archie and Dr. Whale's medical opinions, Emma was next and worried that her cracking voice would betray her. Still she held it together and looked only at the lawyers during the questions. Her hands clung to the arms of the witness chair and she attempted to describe her fear during the hours her son was missing. It was not the first time she had been asked to describe someone who was mentally ill, but it was strange to speak of Rumpelstiltskin in a way she did not quite fully believe. When the judge told her she could step down, she practically ran back to where Killian sat. She threw herself into his embrace in a moment that reminded her of a child rushing home on the first day of school. He was still whispering how brilliant she was in her ear as Belle moved forward to take the stand.

Belle's testimony was the hardest for any of them to hear. She fidgeted at first, turning the chair from side to side and letting one of her hands trail up to her hair to play with it. Her other hand drummed on the railing of the witness box. A few times she referred to him as Rumple, in an affectionate way that she had once referred to him. But each time she caught herself and flinched at the involuntary fondness that had escaped. Rumpelstiltskin had kept his expression blank and his eyes averted during the other testimony, but he could not help but stare at his estranged wife. A softness broke through on his face as he watched her describe his deviousness and dishonesty.

The judge dismissed them all a few witnesses later, stating that he had much to think about in terms of Rumpelstiltskin's fate. So the group trudged outside without words, pairing off as they made their way to Granny's where Mary Margaret, Elsa, Anna, Kristoff and the baby were there to meet them. Belle made her obligatory and courteous comments of hello to the group, but excused herself pretty quickly.

"Don't," Ruby said when Emma turned to follow her. "She's going to be fine, but now is not the time to push her. Just give her a few minutes."

Henry and David were filling in those who had not attended the hearing with testimony details and even Rumpelstiltskin's demeanor. The adults were eating it up, inserting questions and congratulating Henry on his obvious good job.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Henry told them, looking back up at Emma for reassurance. She nodded as Killian tipped his head to him.

"You should be proud of the boy," Killian told her, his own smile growing as he noted the way the boy was handling the questions of family and friends. "He has been through quite a lot, but still seems unshakable."

Emma couldn't help but agree that Henry had been solid throughout the ordeal. He had called for backup when no one else even considered it. He had handled questioning and psychological exams like a champ. Even on the stand he'd shown his true bravery. Not only was he growing up physically, he was becoming a man she was proud of and glad to call her son. "I am proud of him," she assured Killian. "He's a great kid."

"You did quite well yourself," Killian said tilting his glass toward hers. "You never cease to amaze me. I think you all did well. Even Belle was stronger than anyone suspected."

"Now we just have to hope the judge was listening," Emma said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I don't think any of us want to think about Rumpelstiltskin back on the street any time soon." She knew that the decision would probably not come until the morning, but she was hopeful for a quicker resolution. Steeling herself up for the wait, she led Killian over to the table and listened to Henry retell his interpretation of the afternoon's events to anyone who would listen.

_**Thoughts? **_


	48. Chapter 48 - Celebrations

_**Winding this down, but someone sent me a private message with an idea that might make for a good sequel at some point. I hope that you are still enjoying this story. Thank you for letting me have the opportunity to entertain you with it. **_

Emma's worry over the final decision regarding Rumpelstiltskin's fate was not warranted. The judge agreed to the hospitalization, postponing any actual criminal proceedings until such time that the man was found competent to stand trial. It was a victory in some way, but Emma rarely let herself celebrate such things. It was hard to know how to react when Henry cried later that night that he had essentially lost his other grandfather and when Belle was shutting down with her emotions too hard to handle.

So like she had done hundreds of times before, Emma put on a happy face and pushed the sight of Rumpelstiltskin being led away in the back of her mind. She had seen Killian watching her as it happened, his eyes regarding her carefully as she watched for only a moment and then marched out of the courtroom.

"Love," he said as she was hanging the clothes back in her closet from the marathon session earlier that day. "Are you sure…"

"I'm fine," she told him, not waiting for the question to fully form on his lips. But the way she shoved the dress she was holding back on the rack in her closet told otherwise.

"I'm certain that you are," he answered. "I just mean that we have both been building toward this battle for some time. And now it appears that the war has been won. There is a bit of a let down to that finality."

She stooped down to pick up a sweater that had fallen to the floor in her haste. "He's locked up. He won't hurt anyone again. That was the goal and we achieved it." She kicked a pair shoes that her mother had left out back in line with the others.

"Aye," Killian agreed tentatively. "The Dark One has seemingly met his demise. The town is safe again. And you…"

"And I'm going to go back to my normal and boring life," Emma declared with a hint of sarcasm. "That's all reason to celebrate."

"And yet we are not at Granny's establishment partaking in any of the festivities," he reminded her. "You did not appear to want to go." He brought his hand up to scratch at the skin behind his ear, an uncertainty growing as he watched her fight to keep a garment on its hanger.

"Do we really need to celebrate each death or mental institution commitment?" she asked. "It seems tacky to do that. They all gather and drink and eat and pretend like something worse won't be right around the corner." She frowned. "I don't want to think what is worse than Rumpelstiltskin though." She paused for a moment, looking downward as the thoughts crossed her mind. "Anyway, if you wanted to go celebrate that we put a man in a hospital with a straight jacket and padded walls, you should have gone. I'm fine here."

"I've never been a fan of this town's celebrations, love," he told her. "Lasagna and libations in tea cups have never been my idea of a good time. I only partake when you're there to entertain me."

She gave him a partial smile, not hiding her frustration in the tight lips. "And how do you think we should celebrate?" she asked. "You've been chasing after Rumpelstiltskin for hundreds of years with nothing but revenge on your mind. You can't tell me that seeing him locked away is doing nothing for you."

"His situation and circumstances are quite fitting," Killian agreed. "While I always imagined him dying at the tip of my sword, I am not unmoved by his rotting away in the privacy of that hospital. It is not quite as fulfilling as I had thought it might be, but it is an ending nonetheless."

She stood in the center of the room, moonlight mixed with the glow of the lamp on the dresser washing over the area around her to provide a glow. "Why did you stop me?" she asked softly. "At the cabin…You stopped me from killing him. Why?" She cocked her head to the side as he avoided her eyes and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Don't you think that it would have been easier if he was really gone? No more fear or worrying. No waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I can see why my actions might have confused you some," he admitted. "I have lived the majority of my life with the singular goal of seeing the Crocodile suffer for what he did to Milah and to me. It has driven my every breath and propelled my thoughts for so long that when I first met you I could not find room in my head or my heart to understand how you made me feel." He crossed over the space beside the bed and began to carefully lift the other strewn clothing carefully into his hand. A few items at a time, he hung them in her closet. "I did not plan for what I'd do after he was gone, for I assumed that would be the end of my life too."

Emma swallowed, her eyes following his deliberate movements to unearth their bed.

"There are things that vengeance like that does to a man," he said as he re-emerged into the room. "One's outlook becomes shaded from it. There is very little opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the world or the things that used to make you smile. They all fade away. And each and every thing that you do to further your goals of revenge only serve to make that shadow darker and thicker. You forget what used to make you a man. You forget the things you have loved and lost." His hand gripped the footboard of the bed, fingers splayed for his study. "I didn't like that man I became."

She hesitated as she took a step closer to him, covering his hand with her own. "But you're not that man now," she reminded him. "There are a lot of people in this town who talk about redemption and bettering themselves. And I pretty much ignore that talk because that's all it is. You've actually done things though. You've changed."

His lowered head raised a fraction, meeting her gaze with a warm smile. "I'm not a saint, Swan," he reminded her. "I'll never be that. I struggle every hour of every day to be a better man."

"And neither am I," she answered. "But it still doesn't answer my question about why you stopped me."

He blew out his breath, gripping the footboard of the bed tighter. "I've watched those movies with Henry that he likes so much," he told her, shaking his head at her confusion to let him continue. "I see what this world has written and shown you about pirates. It is a very romantic portrayal that is not wholly false. But there are parts that those movies and books don't show. I've killed men before. Sometimes it was with cause and sometimes without. I've killed when someone has disrespected me or threatened me. I have done so to protect my ship, myself, and my crew. But there is nothing that will ever erase the memories of it from my mind. The expression on someone's face when he is taking that last breath is etched in my memory just like the scars you see on my body."

"Killian, I…"

"I don't want that for you," he said softly. "I don't want you to remember the Dark One's last moments when you talk to Henry. I don't want you to feel that onus as you try to sleep at night. You already feel it for so many other things. I couldn't bear the idea of this eating away at you too."

"I could have lived with it," she told him.

"Aye," he answered. "You could have lived with it. But it was your eyes that reminded me why it was a bad idea."

"My eyes?" she asked, confusion still resting on her.

"It is the first thing that I noticed about you," he said. "You convey everything you feel and think in them. I can see that stubborn woman or the cynical one. When you tied me to the tree and wanted to leave me for the ogres, I could see in your eyes that you felt foolish for believing in something your realm thinks only exists in books. When you left me on the beanstalk I could see the fear in your eyes, the uncertainty. But those aren't my favorite expressions from you. The ones I like most are the way your eyes look when you think nobody is looking. The way you regard your baby brother or your son is beautiful. The shy way you react when your parents are affectionate and the wistful way your eyes look when they hold you close. You smile with your eyes when you are joking or flirting. And believe it or not, you have an innocence in them when you are at your least guarded." He smiled. "I knew that if you gave in to your desire to kill him, you would lose that. You've already lost some of it, but I couldn't bear to see you lose more."

She reached forward with her free hand, resting her palm on his cheek. He tilted his head to meet her caress. "I'm selfish," he told her. "I want to see those looks in your eyes. I want to see you look at me that way. And maybe someday…" He broke off.

Her hand stayed over his. "Maybe someday, what?" she asked.

He shrugged, pulling away from her. "This isn't the time," he said. "Perhaps we should get some sleep."

She opened her mouth a fraction, but the sad look on his face stopped her. "Yes," she said. "Sleep would be good. But you haven't answered my question about celebrating. How do you suggest we celebrate our latest victory?"

His smile did not reach his eyes as he pulled back the covers on the bed. "I am sure we'll figure out something," he said. "We've had plenty of practice."

She slung her robe over the chair that sat empty in the corner of the room, stopping briefly to turn out the light. "Do you think we'll ever reach the point when we aren't fighting some evil monster?" she asked. "Will we ever get the chance to just be bored?"

He chuckled as he watched her from his side of the bed, performing her usual ritual. She would slap and punch her pillow a few times before resting her head against it. Just when he would think she was comfortable, she would groan in frustration and flip the pillow over to what she referred to as the cooler side. This had to be done before she would find him in the bed, nestling up against him with her spoken intent of needing to be close to his warmth. "I think I should relish the opportunity to be in that situation," he said. "As much as I enjoy our adventures, I wouldn't mind some of a more quiet nature."

_**So I have some ideas, but how do you think that Killian should propose?**_


	49. Chapter 49 - Son

_**Thanks for the reminder that Killian needs to talk to Henry before proposing. Whoops! I had forgotten Henry again, which makes me laugh since I'm a mom. **_

Henry jumped out of Regina's car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and shooting her a quick wave as he rushed over to the bench where Killian was sitting. His brown hair was tousled from a day of school and the wind that seemed to have picked up over the last few hours. He smiled brightly, eyes shining as Killian held up the bag from Granny's.

"Your order," Killian said, passing the bag to him. "A grilled cheese, fries, and of course a slice of pie."

Henry pulled open the bag, taking a whiff of the food inside. His smile grew bigger, but faded as he looked up at the man who had given him the bag. "You want something," he said, reaching in to lift a fry to his mouth. "You're bribing me."

Killian chuckled, running his hand over his lower face in a worried fashion. "I just bought you a snack," he protested. "It's hardly worthy of calling it a bribe."

Henry grunted and looked over his shoulder at Granny's. "Fine," he said. "It's not a bribe. But tell me again why we aren't eating in there. It's warm in there and freezing out here."

Killian shifted his weight, digging his hand in his pocket for warmth. "I thought that we should go back to the apartment for this," he said, gesturing toward the street that led them home with his hook. "Perhaps the privacy would be helpful."

"I still say you want something," Henry huffed, leading him down the sidewalk and toward the apartment. "I thought we were going sailing today."

Lengthening his strides, Killian caught up with the boy and explained that the weather was too risky for a sail and asked him about his day, the homework that he'd been worried about and even what he wanted for his upcoming birthday. Henry answered, but the suspicion did not fade with Henry's short answers.

The pirate's nervousness did not go unnoticed by Henry, as he watched Killian hang up their jackets and nervously adjust the pillows on the couch. It amused the young boy, plopping himself down in a chair and throwing his damp boots up on the coffee table. Killian said nothing to him, only raising an eyebrow and looking from the boy's feet to the floor. Henry dropped his feet down to the floor and shoved another fry in his mouth. "So seriously, what's going on?" he asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about your mother," Killian said, picking up a magazine that either Emma or Elsa had left on the table. Using his leg to brace it, Killian rolled the magazine, unfurled it, and rolled it again tighter this time. "About you and your mother…"

Henry readjusted himself in the chair and pointed to the other chair across from him. "I guess this will be a long conversation," he said. "Why don't you sit down?"

Killian looked toward the empty chair as though it might bite him, but lowered himself into it carefully. "I love her," he said, as though he was admitting something new. "And I…"

Henry rolled his eyes, taking a bite of sandwich and a swig of his drink. "I kind of figured that out. I'm not deaf or blind." He scrunched up his face again, tilting his head. "Is this one of those conversations where you say how much you love her but that it won't work out because of whatever?" Henry smiled. "You know she'll kill you, right? You break her heart and she'll kick your butt. If she doesn't, my grandparents will."

"I am not breaking her heart," Killian said with a smile at the nonchalant way that Henry told him of his potential demise. "I just want you to know how I feel about you and your mother. You see I am hoping to make things more permanent, a commitment."

Henry nodded, dropping one of the fries back in the bag. "Permanent," he said, trying out the word for size. "What does that mean here?"

"I want to…," Killian responded. "I…"

Henry unwrapped the sandwich and bit down into the cheese, bread, and butter. "Let me guess," Henry said with his mouth full. "You want to marry her? You thought about it, read somewhere, or my grandfather suggested that you talk to me about it? How close am I?"

A deep chuckle left Killian as he dropped the magazine back down on the table. "I guess you've had this conversation before?"

Henry shrugged. "I watch a lot of television," he said. "And Robin told me that he would ask my permission before he asks my other mom to marry him. Besides," Henry said, gesturing around the room. "You two are practically married anyway. It's kind of obvious."

"And so should I ask for your mother's hand, your reaction would be what exactly?" Killian ventured.

Henry swallowed another bite of his sandwich, frowning as he followed it up with a swig of soda. "Can I ask you something? Why do you spend time with me? I mean you take me sailing. You play video games – badly I might add. You cook with me. You ask me for advice. We read the same books. You watch movies with me. You even help me with my homework sometimes. Why do you do all that?"

The answer could have been a simple one, declaring that he was important simply because he was Emma's son. But he knew the boy wanted more of an answer than that. "You know that a long time ago I had the opportunity to spend time with your father," Killian began to explain. "I realized then that he was a kind and caring young lad who very much loved his mother and wanted answers for her. But the more time I spent with him, the more I realized that I could have loved him as my own son. And now I've gotten to know you. And you have that same curiosity, spark, and God help me the same look in your eye when you challenge me. So Emma or no Emma, I would want to know you and spend time with you."

If Henry was startled by the answer, he did not show it. "So it's not just to get close to my mom?" he asked. "Some guys will do that, you know? They pretend to like a kid so that the mom sees them as a better person."

"Henry," Killian said slowly. "Do you think that I would ever be that disingenuous? You live here only a portion of the time. Had I wanted to only woo your mother, I could have made use of the time when you were away. But I didn't. I didn't because what your mother wants is very important to me. She wants her family, which in large part is you and so I want her to have that time."

Henry held the sandwich in his hand, studying it for a moment. "You don't need my permission, you know," he said. "You could just ask her."

"Aye," Killian said. "Alas I know her well enough to know that she won't say yes without your blessing. And I would never do anything to hurt her or you. So without your blessing, I'm at a bit of an impasse."

Henry nodded slowly, with growing understanding. "I think that I could get used to the idea," he said. "I kind of like having you around and all."

Killian smiled at what most would consider a glowing recommendation from a teenager. "I appreciate that," he said sincerely. When Henry shoved the bag with the fries under the pirate's nose, Killian could not help but smile brighter. Permission to marry his mother was one thing, but offering to share food was another. Reaching in, he grabbed two and brought them to his mouth.

"She's not really a wedding kind of person, you know?" Henry said. "I just can't see her in a long white dress and veil. She'd probably shoot anyone who suggested a church wedding."

Killian knew that the boy's assessment was just about correct. Emma was many things, but a traditional bride was not one of them. "I haven't thought that far ahead," he confessed. "I've been more worried about the proposal."

"And how do you plan on that?" Henry asked. "You can't do it too big because that will embarrass her and that scares her. She'll run." Discarding the crusts of his sandwich, the boy pulled out the slice of pie. It was the one and only item from Granny's diner that he trusted completely to not come from frozen storage. He adored it for the richness, though both his mother chastised him for having such a sweet tooth.

Killian rubbed the back of his neck and thoughtfully looked about the room. "It will have to be private," he agreed. "I will give that some thought. But the next step is finding the ring I have in mind."

The pie slid down his throat easily, but Henry choked at Killian's words. "You don't have a ring?" he asked, his voice cracking. "How can you propose without a ring? Have you learned nothing in this world? You have to have a ring."

Looking a bit sheepish, Killian tipped his head downward. "I haven't found the right one," he admitted. "I will though."

"You need help," Henry said, setting his fork into the plastic container with the remnants of the pie. "You need my grandmother." Before Killian could protest, Henry had already dialed Mary Margaret's number and was telling her to meet them in 10 minutes.

_**I can't believe I'm almost to chapter 50. This story got away from me. **_


	50. Chapter 50 - Partners

Mary Margaret kissed her grandson's cheek as she saw the duo approach just a few minutes after she hung up the phone with him. His message had been brief, and had not shed any light on why on earth her grandson and a pirate were asking her to meet at the town's only jewelry store. As Henry attempted to fill her in on the details, a very reluctant Killian stood behind him, shaking his head in disbelief that he was currently standing in front of his girlfriend's son and mother to discuss engagement rings.

"Henry?" came another voice, joining the three on the sidewalk. "Why are we at a jewelry shop?" Elsa waved to each of them, smiling brightly at the confused looks on everyone but Henry's face.

"He," Henry said, pointing at Killian, "wants to marry my mom, but he doesn't have a ring for her. So we," he gestured to all of them, "are going to find him one. Easy, right?"

Elsa grabbed Killian's arm and pulled him into a hug. "Oh my," she said. "This is so exciting."

He mumbled something about just thinking about asking her, which earned him angry glances from both women and Henry. To which he apologized in a blanket statement and ducked his head down as the three came up with a plan so that Emma would not catch on to their scheming.

"So this is what you talked to David about the other day," Mary Margaret said to him when she finally convinced Elsa and Henry to run the extra block to see if Emma's car was still parked at the station. "I was wondering and he was being rather vague."

"Your husband can be subtle when he wants to be, milady," he chuckled. "I appreciate you agreeing to meet me here."

She nodded, adjusting the blanket on her sleeping son in his stroller. "I couldn't resist," she said. "Besides you and I need to chat if you're planning to ask my daughter to marry you."

Raising a quizzical eyebrow, he held open the door for the woman. "Chat?" he questioned.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'm not interested in hearing how you plan to treat her or how you knew she was the one. Anyone with two of three of their senses could tell you that story from just looking at the two of you together."

"And what are you interested in then?" he asked, nodding at the sales person who asked them to wait a moment.

The brunette leaned over the counter and frowned at the selection, moving a few feet to the right she tried again. "Your past," she said. "You weren't born a pirate. So what were you before?"

Killian noted the ease at which she had the conversation, a trait he recognized in Emma. The woman seemed fearless and determined. "I was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy," he answered, feeling not unlike a suspect being questioned by law enforcement.

She nodded her head. "That is where you learned some of your fencing and fighting skills no doubt," she told him. "And your family? What did they do?"

The man went to lean against one of the cases, hoping that it would support him under the questioning. But as his elbow brushed a rotating displays, the scrambled to hold it upright. "My parents were hardly nobility," he answered. "My mother was the daughter of a baker and passed away when I was a little bit younger than Henry is now. My father abandoned me after her death, as I was told that he was a fugitive and wanted by the crown in another kingdom." He shrugged. "My brother received a commission to the naval academy and eventually was able to let me tag along." At her prodding he offered a few stories about his time as a cabin boy and eventual rise through the ranks. She noted he came across as remarkably modest about those days.

She glanced toward the sales person, gauging the time she had left. "And the pirate thing?"

"After my brother's death from the dreamshade poison in Neverland, I became disenchanted with a king who would send us on such a mission," he answered. "I had a ship, a crew, no family, and a great deal of anger. Piracy seemed to me to be the most logical choice. It made me independent and self-reliant, not something you get by following the orders of your older brother."

With her attention the baby's gurgling, she lifted him to one shoulder and looked back at Killian. This time her eyes were not quite so probing. "And as a pirate you fell in love with Milah?" she asked. "You did have a death wish, didn't you?"

"Aye," he said, looking downward for a moment. "Milah was quite a lass. She could out drink and fight most of my crew. And she was a stubborn minx who made me lose quite a bit of my treasure gambling at some of the various taverns. She was also an incredible pickpocket. I believe you would have found her skill to be quite good during your banditry days."

"And if she had not died?" the woman asked, bouncing her son a bit to settle him. "Would you have married her?"

"We spoke of it," he said softly. "But who can accurately predict the future or the upcoming weather? However, had she lived, I wouldn't be here now. I would have had no reason to go to Neverland when I did, nor would I have been part of Cora's plans."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Mary Margaret said.

"What is?"

"Fate," she answered, dropping a kiss on her son's chubby cheek. "We complain and groan about what happens in our lives. I suffered at the hands of the Evil Queen so that I had to turn to my life as a bandit to get by for all that time. But had I not lived that life, I would not have met my husband. So should I thank Regina or blame her?"

He watched the woman in front of him, tuck her son back into the seat of his stroller. As she straightened, she smiled. "Just as Emma will carry her memories of Neal, you have yours of Milah," she told him. "It doesn't mean that you love either one more or less. Love isn't like that. You make room for love in your heart. There's not a limit to it."

He smirked as she reached over to adjust the collar of his jacket. "I believe you are sounding a bit more like Snow White today," he said with a chuckle.

"Not completely," she told him as the sales person approached. "If I was full on Snow White, you would have heard more about hope."

Henry and Elsa slid in through the door, announcing that Emma was currently typing up a report from an earlier arrest. It would take at least another hour or so. When David had asked him what he was doing, he begged his grandfather to unplug her computer if she got up to leave before they were done.

Killian browsed through several trays of jewelry, an overwhelming amount of rings. There were traditional sets, individual engagement rings, nontraditional looks, newly created, and even some antiques. Mary Margaret out right nixed some of the suggestions, calling them gaudy or cheap, but she offered no approval on the first four trays of selections. Elsa was more polite, saying a few of the rings were almost perfect. Even Henry was bored though, watching the foot traffic out the window rather than his grandmother and Elsa take turns to try on rings so that Killian might see how they looked on someone's hand.

"This one is nice," Mary Margaret finally said, holding her hand up closer to Killian's face. "What do you think?"

The pirate appraised it quickly. "I'm not…"

His future mother-in-law whipped it off her hand and tossed it down on the tray. "Next," she told the sales person. Killian chuckled and called her abundantly decisive. She responded that she was trying to save time. "We've narrowed it down. You like the antique rings that are a bit more ornate than just a solitaire." Looking at the sales person, she smiled. "Let's look for something with those parameters, please."

Elsa tried on the next one, declaring it just the right touch. However, Killian again shook his head in a declaration that it was not nearly worth the asking price.

Two trays later, Henry called out to them to duck when he saw Leroy walking by with a few of the dwarfs. "He'll tell everyone," Henry proclaimed, diving under the chair by the door. Killian, Elsa and Mary Margaret followed the boy's lead and moved out of his sight line.

A few minutes later, Henry again warned them that David had texted Emma's imminent arrival on the street. She had left the station a few minutes earlier and was planning to stop in across the way to check on Belle. Again, the three stayed out of the way of the windows.

It was while Killian and Mary Margaret were snug in the corner of the store that Killian found the ring he wanted for Emma. It was a simple lace gold band with a round cut diamond in the center. Two sapphires adorned the sides of it. Without even asking Mary Margaret's opinion, he lifted the ring off the velvet lined tray and held it up, proclaiming that was the one he wanted to purchase.

"She's still outside," Henry whispered loudly to them, peeking his head up just above the lower frame of the window. "Go inside, mom!"

"We can't stay in here all night," Mary Margaret said. "Anyone have a suggestion on how to get us out of here so she won't see?" Henry shushed her to which she rolled her eyes. "She can't hear us."

"What about magic?" Henry said. "One of my moms can just poof where she wants to go."

Elsa frowned. "Sorry, Henry," she said. "I don't have that kind of magic. I could maybe create a distraction. A snowman or something like that."

"How would a snowman distract her?" Killian said, attempting to catch a glimpse by lifting up one of the heavy curtains.

"I've got it," Mary Margaret said. "I came in to get my watch repaired. I'm going to walk out there and act surprised to see her. I'll invited her and Belle to dinner and you guys can sneak out after we're gone."

"And if she doesn't go?" Elsa asked.

"Then I hope you brought your sleeping bags because you'll be here a while."

_**This is a bit of a short update, but I wanted Mary Margaret and Elsa to get a turn too. Besides…my husband actually took my mother and best friend shopping for my engagement ring. A co-worker of mine saw them at the store and assumed that he was proposing to my friend and not me. LOL**_


	51. Chapter 51 - Pods

_**I had to do this chapter though it wasn't originally planned. I hope you find it as cute and fun as I did. **_

Emma Swan stared at her mother's flustered face and wondered what on earth possessed her the woman who had no deception in her blood to try to lie. While she was good at spotting a lie, a blind and deaf man could have seen it coming when Mary Margaret began spilling the details of a supposedly broken watch and a desperate need for dinner at Granny's. Even Belle, who was half distracted by her own circumstances, was wary of the woman blathering on about now being the perfect time to go since it would be crowded later.

"We can get hot chocolate," Mary Margaret said, linking her arm with her daughter and attempting to push the stroller at the same time. "I know you'll like that."

"It doesn't go with everything," Emma muttered, glancing back at Belle who was trudging behind them. "You just said you wanted meatloaf. Hot chocolate and meatloaf?"

"That does sound like a case for dietary distress," Belle noted, following the two past the abandoned patio and into the diner.

"But you love it," Mary Margaret said in a sing-song voice. "I know you do."

Bemused and wide eyed, Emma let her mother order from Ruby while balancing both a menu and the baby. She did not even comment when the watch that her mother had droned on about shone under the sweater. Her mother was obviously holding back a secret, but Emma was aware that her mother's reputation for all things goodness and light did include a penchant for spilling the details others wanted to keep quiet. She simply needed to bide her time.

Ruby's eyes turned to Emma with what could only be characterized as sympathy. The tall brunette tilted her head to the side compassionately and offered to make anything that Emma could possibly want to eat. She rattled off the daily specials, including mentioning that some of them would go wonderfully with a stiff drink.

"I get off in an hour or so," Ruby said after Emma ordered. "You and Belle could probably use a night out. Why don't the three of us go to the Rabbit Hole?"

Emma interrupted Belle's refusal with a brusque, "What the hell is going on?" directed at Ruby. The brunette shrugged her shoulders and headed back behind the counter to place their orders with the cook.

"Why is everyone acting so strange?" Emma asked Belle when Mary Margaret reached out to grab her hand. Her mother seemed to be inspecting it, pulling the appendage so close to her face that Emma was practically forced to stand. "Mom!?"

Mary Margaret dropped her hand and smiled pleasantly. "Sorry," she said. "I thought I saw something."

Ruby returned a moment later with their drinks, again suggesting that Emma might want something a little stronger. But before Emma could protest the idea again, the waitress was bouncing off to the counter where Leroy sat with some of his friends.

"There hasn't been another curse, has there?" Belle asked, placing her lips around the straw.

"I'm beginning to wonder," Emma answered, looking down at her vibrating cell phone. The message on the screen was a short one from Killian. "Down the street from the station. Love to see you. Dessert?"

Emma smiled widely and texted back that she was at Granny's, but she would gladly meet him for dessert after the awkward dinner with her mother. As she pressed send, she prayed that maybe her pirate would be normal.

"Where's David?" Leroy asked, tugging on his jacket as he and the others made their way to the door. The grizzly faced man stood at the end of the table looking every bit the grumpy man as the story book portrayed. His hands were on his hips and his chin jutted outward. "Sharpening his sword, I bet. Or maybe loading his gun."

Mary Margaret even looked puzzled over that remark and mumbled something about him working late. Leroy nodded with his lips in a firm line. "You know if you need me to do anything I'm at your disposal," he said, turning his attention to the wide eyed Emma next. "I have a good grip for my pick axe and I work in a mine. I know what to do with the body, sister."

Belle choked on her soda and Emma's mouth dropped a bit as she watched the man's frown turn to a smile as he left shooting her a pointed look and Ruby a cheerful wave. "Okay seriously," Emma said, straightening herself up in her seat. "Did someone put something in the water supply? People are losing their minds."

Ruby brought their food next, including a side dish of macaroni and cheese for both Emma and Belle. "It's good for a broken heart," she declared before moving to the next table.

Her fork hovering above the dinner, Emma frowned and leaned forward to sniff it. "I'm a little afraid to eat it," she admitted. "I might turn into a pod person too."

By the time Emma gathered her things to meet Killian, she had been hugged by three people, offered Granny's crossbow services, and even had two men ask her for a date. It was an odd night to say the least. She was still pondering it when she saw Killian waiting for her next to the bakery. His quick but hungry kiss made her smile.

"You kiss like Killian," she said, bracing her hands on his chest. "But are you a pod person too?"

"A pod person?" he asked, confusion melting over him.

"Never mind," Emma said with a laugh. "I've just had a rough day." She followed him into the bakery.

"Aye," he said. "I can imagine. Perhaps some chocolate might cheer you up? It usually does the trick."

She wasn't all that hungry, but settled for one of the baker's giant chocolate chip cookies that she could split with Killian. Together with the hot chocolate that she had not gotten with her mother, the two took their treats down toward the park. The streets were almost empty as night had fallen around the small town, but still Emma noticed the quizzical and even venomous looks shot in their direction as they walked.

"Have you noticed anyone acting strange?" Emma asked, pressing herself more into his side as he slung his arm across her shoulders.

He pondered the question for a moment. "I haven't seen anything too unusual," he said carefully. "I know that Elsa said something about people being rude and went home earlier."

Emma shook her head. "I guess I'm just being sensitive," she said. "I just feel like we're getting dirty looks right now. And earlier at the diner people were just plain strange."

Killian kissed the top of her head and laughed. "You live in a town with people you assumed were only characters in books," he said. "You said yourself that you'd never even heard of portals and time travel until you moved here. Your interpretation of strange is going to be a bit stricter than those of us without your background."

"True," she said, taking a sip of the drink. "I'm just overreacting." Killian released her as he bent down to remove a pebble from his shoe's sole. The two continued their walk side by side toward the bench where he said it would be perfect for their snack.

"Where is Elsa, anyway?" she asked. "I thought she was…"

"She's at the apartment with her sister," Killian explained. "They mentioned something about addressing invitations."

They were almost to the park when she saw Leroy approaching. The smile he had earlier was gone, his expression venom laced and dangerous. She tried to say hello to him, but his focus was on Killian. Walking briskly, he purposefully swerved into their path, knocking into Killian with a fair amount of force. Killian stopped and looked puzzled at Leroy's actions. "Leroy," Emma exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

He glared a moment longer at Killian before turning back to Emma. "Just remember, he said. "Pick axe and a mine. Nobody would ever miss him."

_**In between the wrapping of presents, the cooking, and the dealing with family, I'll try to post some more. **_


	52. Chapter 52 - Rumors

_**One more chapter today…A special thank you for your follows, favorites, and feedback. It is truly a great Christmas gift for me. **_

Elsa sat in the middle of the living room floor with her back to the door, carefully addressing envelopes with an old fashioned script that Emma admitted was beautiful. She frowned at her work, diligently dragging the fountain pin through the curves and lines of names and addresses with pure focus.

"Wow," Emma said, lifting one of the finished products with her gloved hand. "That's beautiful." She smiled down at her friend. When she received no acknowledgement, she looked curiously at Anna.

"She's in a bad mood," Anna explained, her eyes never leaving the television. "Someone called her a few names and then she had the snowflake thing. It wasn't a great day for her."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, sliding down next to her friend. Removing her gloves, she reached out to touch Elsa's arm gently. "I don't know what is going on in this town today, but it is crazy. Please don't take it personally. People have threatened Killian. I've had strange looks coming my way since dinner."

Elsa glanced up, her eyes red from tears. "You know I'd never hurt you, right?" she asked in a soft voice. "I've been hearing that I've hurt you or done something to hurt you." She waved her hand in front of her face to rid them of the snowflakes that had started to form. "You would tell me if I did something."

Emma leaned forward and hugged Elsa from their awkward position. "You haven't done anything to hurt me," she assured her. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it. I can't stand to see you like this or the town going nuts. There has to be an explanation." She felt some of the tension leave Elsa's body as she hugged her, a sign that maybe she wasn't quite so traumatized.

Anna reached over to rescue a stack of invitations that were threatened by Elsa's most recent snow incident. "You don't think it is a curse or something, do you?" Anna asked. "I couldn't go through that with the wedding and the invitations, the dress fittings, and..."

"I thought about that," Emma said, holding a hand out to stop Anna's diatribe. "But I think it is more than likely just some sort of misunderstanding. I'll get it all straightened out."

"Good because I don't want it to ruin everything," Anna declared. She looked troubled for a moment and then launched herself into the hug as well so that the three of them formed one large heap in the middle of the room. Emma's laugh and Elsa's choked sob were joined by Anna's rambling voice.

"It won't," Elsa guaranteed with her head still on Emma's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it get to me. I shouldn't have cared."

Emma patted her friend's back as they continued to hug. "You have every right to be upset about it," Emma told her. "I would be too."

When Killian, Henry, and Kristoff entered, they weren't quite sure what was going on, but they simply left the women there in a ball. Henry held both men back as they took steps toward the women, explaining that sometimes you just had to let people hug it out. They weren't sure what that meant, but since all the women seemed to be smiling now and not in any distress, they simply assumed it must be okay.

The next morning Elsa was still troubled by the comments she heard and said she'd prefer to stay in for breakfast rather than head to Granny's with Mary Margaret and David. Emma had eaten a muffin and hurried herself and Henry off to work and school respectively. So that left Killian, who told Emma he would drop her off a coffee for her mid-morning break. So with plans in place, he headed into the diner.

"You have some nerve," Ruby told him when he sat down at the counter. "I would think you'd be hiding like a coward." She shot a quick look around to see if one of the other waitresses would take his order, but none acknowledged her.

"Would you mind telling me for what reason I have to be cowering?" he asked, genuinely perplexed by her reaction. She was clearly a good friend of Mary Margaret and Emma, but the woman had always been polite and sometimes friendly to Killian.

"Men," she grumbled, pouring him a cup of coffee and placing his order with the cook without actually waiting for him to make up his mind. He normally ordered the same thing so it was not that big of a deal, but she did it with such wrath that he truly wondered if she would try to poison him. "Now what part of this situation confuses you?" she asked when she reapproached. He could not help but notice that the coffee pot she held was inching closer to his lap.

"I simply wondered what I have done to offend you," he said. "If you could tell me, I might be able to make amends."

She frowned at him, red lips almost disappearing in the tightness of her expression. "You should know," she seethed, but changed her words as she saw the confusion on his face. "You and Elsa."

"Elsa?" he said quietly.

"Yes, the blonde you live with who isn't the sheriff," she answered with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, you are cheating on Emma with her roommate. This isn't college."

"Cheating?" he answered just as dumbly. He was looking at Ruby, but he could feel the eyes of the room on him.

"Oh my God," Ruby said, placing the coffee pot down on the counter and crossing her arms over her chest. "You think playing dumb guy is cute? Everyone knows, buddy. Everyone! This place was going nuts last night because people saw you at the jewelry store with Elsa. She was hanging all over you and you kissed her. Emma was freaking across the street, you moron. How could you?" Using a menu that he had discarded, she smacked him in the head with it. "Moron!"

"Wait a second," he said, rubbing the spot where she had hit him. "People are saying that Elsa and I…She was not hanging all over me, nor did I kiss her."

"Yes," she said with an exasperated sigh. "From what I heard it was a very cozy moment between the two of you. Good grief, man. Couldn't you have snuck around a little? Better yet, not cheated on Emma. You do realize life is going to be hell for the two of you. There isn't a person in this diner who wouldn't beat the living daylights out of you for hurting Emma."

"I haven't…" he began, anger seeping into his voice.

"Don't lie," she said, backing away with her hands up in disgust. "It isn't very becoming on you."

"Now see here," he said, his confidence and irritation growing a little stronger. "I have done nothing to hurt Emma. I would never." She opened her mouth to protest but he continued on anyway. "What your emissaries saw at the jewelry store yesterday was in no way a liaison with Elsa. She was there with Emma's own mother and son. Do you really think me so crass and insensitive that I might begin or continue a dalliance with another woman with Emma's family as witness?"

"Snow and Henry were there?" Ruby said, her voice dropping about two levels. "He didn't say that."

By the time Killian arrived with Emma's promised coffee, he had set the record straight with Ruby, Granny, and six of the seven dwarfs. But even with this newly established truce of peace, Killian admitted that he precious little time before any hope at a surprise proposal would be ruined.

"Coffee delivery," he said, placing the cup before her. She nodded her head, scribbling another note on her pad and reaching for it absently. His hand reached out to cover hers, effectively stopping her from taking a drink. "You seem troubled," he said. "And I would bet it has something to do with…"

She finally met his eyes, her smile a bit forced. "I'm not worried about the rumors," she said. "Yes, I heard all about it this morning on my way in to work."

He smirked, his hand still covering hers. "As did I, love," he told her. "I was accosted at Granny's this morning by half a dozen people out to defend your honor. You should be very happy to know that people in this town love you so much that they would threaten bodily harm to me."

"It should be a warning to you," she said. "If you ever do anything…"

"I wouldn't," he declared. "I wouldn't dare. Not because of a few dwarfs threatening me with axes and dismemberment or a she-wolf reminding me that she knows where I live. I wouldn't hurt you because I wouldn't want to see the pain on your face. I wouldn't want to be the reason for your tears or for your anger. Even without your guards, you are quite a fearsome woman. Even if I wasn't in love with you, I'd be frightened of your ire."

She chuckled, keeping her hand under his. "I know you," she said, shaking the forefinger of her other hand at him. "And I know Elsa, so no I wasn't thinking the rumors were true. I think you might be smart enough not to cheat on me with someone we both live with and in front of my son, no less."

"But you are still a bit wary," he noted, releasing her hand so that she might have a sip of her coffee. "You're doing paperwork, which usually means that you need to think about the latest monster on the loose, or you are upset and need mindless drudgery to distract you."

She rolled her eyes, taking a long sip from the cup and licking the remnants of her lips. "I've lived a lot of places," she said to him after she had taken another sip of coffee. "Boston, Portland, New York, Tallahassee, Phoenix, and in more homes than you can count. But I've never lived in a small town until I came here."

His palm was flat on the desk, tapping a bit against veneer of wood. Without speaking, he prodded her for more information, tilting his head down and watching her carefully. She knew the look well, as he had been doing that since she first met him.

"When you live in a city where there are millions of people," she said looking toward the windows. "It's different. You're alone. Even when you're surrounded by all those people, you just blend in and you don't matter to anyone. You protect yourself and everything in your life because if you don't, nobody else is going to do it. I'm used to that life. I have lived it." She sighed again, hoping that her words were making sense and her message getting through to him. "But here it is different. It's so different. People know things about me. They ask questions. They care if I'm crying or upset. Ruby knows what I want to eat. Mary Margaret can tell you my favorite color, song, and article of clothing. And I won't even start to list what you know about me because you'd proudly list some more. People knew about us before we were even officially an us. I'm not saying it's bad. It's just disconcerting because I can't live my life the way I have lived it for 28 years."

"Would you want to change the way things are here?" he asked.

"No," she admitted after a pause. "I wouldn't. It just takes some getting used to after the life I've led. You aren't the only fish out of water here."

He laughed. "You know that these rumors and threats were only because people do care about you?"

"I know," she said. "It's sweet that they do. But that's not what scared me."

"What has scared you, love?" he asked, truly perplexed as to what had upset her if she did not believe them to be true.

"I didn't believe them because I trust you," she said softly. "I'm not used to trusting someone so much and not getting hurt from it. You just wiped out my theory that I am a magnet for horrible, awful men who will lie, cheat, or abandon me."

"And that's a scary thing?" he asked.

She bit her lip and nodded. "Very scary," she admitted. "It means I'm not an idiot for loving you."

"You'd rather be an idiot?" he asked, still smiling at her.

"No. I'm glad I was wrong about you, but it hurts the ego. You know how much I hate to be wrong." She laughed, punching his shoulder playfully. "I hate it almost as I hate saying you're right."


	53. Chapter 53 - Fun

_**This is one of my longer updates, but it just got away from me. Who doesn't like happy and fluffy Captain Swan?**_

_**Think if I ask Santa that I can get my very own Killian?**_

The apartment was silent when she managed to balance both her purse and the bag she'd been carrying well enough to open the door and slip in behind it. Mostly dark, only a small lamp in the corner of the living room gave off any light, but she knew the apartment well enough to manage without disturbing anyone from their slumber. Placing both bags on the dining room table, she kicked off her shoes and in socked feet walked to the bedrooms. Her first stop was her son's room, noting the way he always slept with the covers up under his chin and his feet poking out from beneath. She did not bother with the other closed door, as it was Elsa's room.

Her own room was next where Killian lay sleeping amongst the pillows and blankets she had accumulated. He complained that there were too many, the stacks of pillows of various sizes and shapes confused a man who had lived for hundreds of years on practicality. While he had a taste for finer things, they usually meant a good meal and a single pillow and mattress rather than a mat on the floor. She had reminded him many times that he could simply remove the pillows, but he never did.

"Hey," she said after peeling off her clothes in exchange for a t-shirt she wore as pajamas and sliding in next to him. He always woke when she did that, something about his senses being on alert for intruders. "You have a good night?"

Throwing a single arm over her middle as she settled into her corner of the bed, he dropped a single kiss on her shoulder and grunted his reply. "You're late," he muttered. "Thought you said 10?"

She placed her own hand over his and let her eyes flutter shut for a moment. "Sorry," she said in return. "I couldn't get away. Leroy sort of had to be talked out of beating up someone who called him short."

"Sodding dwarf," Killian muttered again.

"Midnight is close to 10," she said in her own defense. "Thanks for watching Henry tonight. I hate leaving him alone after dark or at all really." Usually her father took the night shifts when she had her son in tow, but David had been busy with a colicky son and a wife who was at the end of her rope. So Emma had agreed to take the shift with her boyfriend entertaining her 12 year old son, Henry.

She rolled herself slightly to face him, not wanting to break contact but loving to watch him sleep. He groaned in a mixture of protest and acquiescence that was purely him as he readjusted his stance. "Your boy was fine," he told her. "Homework, 30 minutes of reading, 30 minutes of video games and all his nutrients at dinner."

"Sounds like a quiet night," she praised him. "Did he Google that inventor's name? I still can't seem to remember it and he needs it for that paper."

"I have no idea what that means," Killian said sleepily. "But I trust you do."

"Ask me in the morning," she told him, snuggling into his embrace more. "I'm tired and you're already asleep." She smiled against him, unable to stop the surge of joy in her heart. "Night."

"Good night," he told her, relaxing into their embrace.

By the time the alarm went off, she found him already up and dressed with Henry explaining the utterly confusing concepts of a smart phone to him. Killian, who usually had no patience when she tried to explain such things, was patiently listening to her son explain the difference between 3G and 4G, as well as wifi and other concepts. Seeing her over Henry's shoulder, Killian winked at her disheveled appearance and laughed as she darted into the shared bathroom to be the first to take a hot shower. It was, she told him, the one luxury that she afforded herself daily – hot water for a long shower.

When she finally emerged, skin pink from the heat and her hair twisted under a plush towel, she found her son had given up his morning technology lesson in exchange for a Poptart. Elsa was humming from the confines of her bedroom, undoubtedly doing her hair. And Killian was staring hopelessly at the phone in his hand.

"Morning," she said, stooping to press a kiss to the cheek of both of her guys. "Sleep well?" she asked Henry as he brushed the blueberry sugar crumbs off of his chin and onto his plate. Moving past them, she poured herself a cup of coffee that was way too hot for her mouth. She set it aside to cool.

"Yeah," he said. "I needed it. Tonight I am at my mom's with Robin and Roland. That kid is cute, but he kind of creeps me out. He will get right in my face while I'm asleep and then scream my name for me to wake up. I end up opening my eyes to find him just inches from me. It is scary."

Emma laughed. "There was a kid in one of my group homes that did that," she told him, sliding a glass of milk to her son. "We all complained, but nothing helped. Finally this one kid, Joel, was the victim. But Joel had a habit of waking up swinging his arms. He knocked the poor kid across the room. It worked though and he never got that close to any of us again."

Amused, Henry reached for the milk and gulped it down loudly. "Did it hurt him?"

"Stunned him a little," Emma said. "Maybe knocked the wind out of him. But it worked out in the end."

Henry smiled, kissing her on the cheek as he rushed toward the bathroom. "I'll try to remember that," he said. "See you tomorrow, right?"

Emma agreed, thumbing through the calendar on the refrigerator. "Why is he going to Regina's?" she asked, as she moved to sit next to Killian.

"What?" he asked. "Did you say something?"

She frowned, looking from the refrigerator calendar to the closed bathroom door. "He's not scheduled for a night at Regina's until this weekend," she said. "Why is he…"

"Why is he what?" Elsa asked as she swept into the room. Her hair was pulled back off her face and a simple sweater and jeans had replaced what was once her standard outfit. Emma noticed that she had a large bag thrown over her shoulder.

With a raised eyebrow, Emma nudged Killian, who merely told Elsa good morning. She could not make out what he looking at on his phone, but his attention was certainly compromised.

"What are you up to?" Emma asked as Elsa began rummaging for her own breakfast.

"Up to?" Elsa said with her head in the refrigerator. "I don't know…Oh my bag. Well with the wedding stuff and all, Anna wanted us to have a sister night. So we're going to go over those last minute plans and then just chat. It's been a long time." She pulled back to look at Emma. "You'd be bored, but you're welcome to join us."

Emma shook her head and looked back down at her drink, missing the warning look that Killian shot Elsa. Coughing, Killian replaced the phone in his pocket. "Does this mean that I might have the evening alone with you, love?" he asked, his voice low.

Glancing at him, she laughed at the hopeful expression on his face. The sight made her heart leap a bit, enjoying the boyish view of him sitting there all expectant and wanting. "Is that how you ask me on a date?" she asked, laughing when he winked at her.

"Perhaps we should make it a date," he said with a thoughtful scratch to his chin. "That might make you more punctual."

"And you'll plan it, right?" she asked. "Because I seem to remember you still don't think I can plan a date." She tried her best to look offended at this, but failed when he smiled at her.

"We won't have that argument again," he told her. "If you accept, I'll pick you up here at 6 for our date."

She rolled her eyes and broke off a piece of the untouched Poptart that Henry had left behind. "And do I at least get a clue what to wear on this date?" she asked. "It's rude to leave a woman unsure about her clothing."

***AAA***

The only clue he had given her was to dress warm, which was both frustrating and a bit cute. Emma, who prided herself on being able to read people, had realized that both her son and her friend knew something. But even after prodding and bribery, she was getting nowhere with them. Her own mother had feigned ignorance, concentrating on her baby brother rather than making eye contact. And her father was the only one who actually seemed as clueless as she did.

"I should tell him I have a headache," she said to herself as she brushed out her hair into a low ponytail. "I hate surprises." She frowned into the mirror, not at the reflection but at the fact that he had reduced her into this. She was talking to herself, a trait she associated with the mentally ill or lunatics. "And now I'm talking to myself."

She wasn't sure why she was nervous, as this was hardly a first date. She and Killian had been out alone or with friends countless times. They shared a home and bed. When she went to the doctor the other day for a routine exam she had written down his name as her emergency contact. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she felt something odd about the way he had been so insistent that they be alone tonight. He'd obviously arranged it with Elsa and Henry.

While they had enjoyed nights out to dinner or even dancing, she had come to realize that some of their best date nights were simple. Walking on the beach, a drive through town, or sitting in her car listening to music were some of her favorites. None of those were complicated or required elaborate invitations or planning. So whatever was up her pirate's sleeve worried her, as he had obviously been spending time and energy on the idea.

Grabbing her jacket, she flipped out the bedroom light and headed to the living room to wait on him. She had followed his advice of warm dress, but wasn't sure if that meant casual or not. So she had elected to wear a pair of charcoal wool pants and a thick cabled black sweater. Whether it was the appropriate outfit or not, she knew they would match with the dark colors.

The door opened at precisely six, which did not surprise her in the least. The man's internal clock was so accurate that she had joked they should not bother with alarm clocks. True to form, he was there on time and bundled up only slightly less than she was. He smiled when she held up her coat to ask if they were ready.

"Good," he told her, helping her on with it. "It is quite cold out there and I don't want to hear you complain or beg to wear mine."

She swatted at him, but he only offered his arm to her and escorted her out the door with a deaf ear to her pleas for information about where they were going. When they walked past her car, she hesitated. But he told her that their destination was within walking distance. She accepted that and continued, her arm looped through his and her mind reeling for clues about their fate.

The Storybrooke Elementary School was not even remotely on her list of possibilities. He ignored her expression of confusion and shock, holding open the door for her and stopping at the front table for tickets from Mary Margaret and David. "Here you are," he said, handing a strip of red tickets to her. "I understand that these will help us partake in some of the games and adventures this evening."

"You brought me to a school carnival?" she asked in a low voice after her parents had waved them on to greet the next people in line. "Seriously?"

She had been aware of the carnival. Although Henry was now enrolled in middle school, she had received the flyer and phone call that requested donations and volunteers for the event. Never one to neglect her responsibilities, she had donated a few dollars and helped Mary Margaret bake cakes that her mother had delivered just that morning. Even while not teaching any longer, the new mayor had a soft spot for the work she had done for 28 years.

"I thought it might be a good start to our evening," he said with a smirk. "Everyone is here or will be here. You can visit your friends and show me some of these things that you and Henry were talking about for so long. Besides, even the Savior needs a break sometimes."

She shook her head, draping her coat over her arm and following him into the gym that had been transformed into a crepe paper winter wonderland. There were craft booths, food stands, and carnival games looping around the space that usually housed sweaty students exercising or playing basketball. Outside the doors in the parking lot were fairground rides, including a Ferris Wheel and pony rides. She let herself smile.

"Cotton candy and funnel cakes," she said with a quick nod of her head. "Definitely cotton candy and funnel cakes."

He raised an eyebrow to ask her what she meant by that. "Am I supposed to know the meaning of those words, Swan?" he asked when she didn't volunteer the information.

"If you're expecting me to play games and ride rides like a kid, the least you can do is buy me cotton candy and a funnel cake," she told him. "No carnival is worth it without them."

He chuckled loudly as she took his right hand in her left and dragged him over to where one of the other realm's princesses was swirling a stick around a large metal contraption. He watched Emma stare as the fluffy pink strings that floated came together into a bright cloud of what she said was pure sugar. And he couldn't contain his own smile as her eyes grew bigger and her mouth formed a perfect O with her first bite of the substance. "That good?" he said quietly as they walked away from the stand.

She did not answer him, pulling off a piece and placing it against his lips. He accepted it suspiciously, but immediately brightened as he tasted the sweetness that she obviously enjoyed. His tongue darted out to bring in a bit more of the sweetness and cleanse his lips of the stickiness. To which she told him that was inappropriate in a place with so many children.

They spent the next hour playing games, which she proclaimed were probably rigged. Still he did well at the ring toss game and even managed to win a teddy bear knocking down bottles. She allowed him his victories, not challenging him on anything until they reached the dunk tank where her son stood taking tickets for three baseballs. "You've got to be kidding me," she said with a laugh. "Regina is volunteering for this."

"She thought it was a good cause," Henry said, giving Emma a hug. "She's in for an hour and then Grandpa's taking a turn."

Handing her son a red ticket, she took the three baseballs into her hand and winked at Killian. "I have to do this," she proclaimed, handing him her coat to hold. And if my father is next, I'm coming back for that too." The pirate and her son both stood back to watch her, cheering her on as she narrowly missed the target.

Regina sat primly on the edge of the platform and sneered. Throwing out a few insults, she waited on Emma to try again. She had been there for 20 minutes already and so far had remained remarkably dry. However, she had sent away Little John, Will, Robin, and anyone she thought might have a good aim. When Emma missed the second time, the former evil queen laughed heartily and commented that perhaps the sheriff should practice more before next year.

Emma gripped the last ball even tighter, focusing all of her attention on the red circle that was the target. She tried to ignore the encouragement that Killian spouted and the mixture of encouragement for both her and Regina from Henry. It was Regina's voice that broke through when she loudly announced, "You'd hit the target better if you could focus on it instead of making eyes at your pirate."

Emma blew out the breath she had been holding and released the white ball with as much force as she could muster. It hit the target straight on and sent Regina into the water with a loud splash. Several people clapped and cheered as Killian lifted her up off the ground in victory and Henry both yelped his approval and grabbed a towel for a sputtering Regina. Emma reminded her that it was all in good fun and for charity before waving goodbye to walk away.

None of the other victories were that sweet, but she and Killian continued their rounds for another half hour. Bored with the games, she followed him outside to the rides. She had been to amusement parks and carnivals before, usually as part of a group outing during her childhood years. This one was not as spectacular or elaborate as most, but she was enjoying herself and felt her jaws becoming sore from laughing and smiling. Killian had thrown himself into the activities, never letting the fact that the games and events were more for children than adults get to him. He'd even dressed in costume with her for a photo booth and spent ten tickets trying to win her a gold fish.

On the rides he held her hand and only snarked a little over the ridiculousness of the merry-go-round in comparison to real horses and carriages. The two of them kissed while in line for the next ride, giggled when a group of students attempted to perform magic on stage with ridiculous tricks, and snuck away when they saw Regina headed in their direction in case she was thinking about revenge for the dunk tank.

She got her funnel cake about an hour before the carnival was to end. There was nothing better, she told him, sharing the treat with him and thoroughly enjoying the process of cleaning up the powder sugar mess they made. Seated on the bleachers next to him, she watched as people were beginning to trickle out, but still the room remained crowded and lively. "This was fun," she told him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Not at all what I expected."

His head was resting on hers and one arm slung low around her waist. "Anything else we need to do?" he asked.

"I think we've done it all," she remarked, yawning.

He sighed, holding her close to him for a moment. "We haven't done that booth," he said, pointing with his chin to another corner. "What do you say?"

She followed his gaze toward what appeared to be a board with a painted ocean scene. People were lined up to throw their fake fishing lines over the wall and come back with a prize. Mr. Smee was running the booth, carefully taking the tickets and providing each with some sort of cheap, plastic prize. "Killian, that's definitely for kids," she said. "Who wants a plastic whistle or a coloring book?"

He was already down the three steps from the bleachers to the floor, ignoring her argument. "I want to try it," he said. "I've had good luck with hunting treasure before." She laughed and followed him, joining him in line after she lost sight of him for a moment.

"Captain," Mr. Smee said, handing him the pole. "And Ms. Swan." The man stood back and nodded to whoever was behind the wall of plywood.

"This is silly," Emma said as she felt a gentle tug on the line to tell her to pull it back. She laughed as she did and her plastic prize came into view – an eye patch with a skull and crossbones. "Perfect."

Killian did not laugh with her, his face very serious as he waited for his own prize. Finally the line went taut and lax again. With an exaggerated grunt, he pulled back the line with a ring attached at the end of it.

"And what did you get?" Emma asked him, not really looking toward the prize.

"Just a little trinket," he told her with a smile. "Perhaps you would like it to remember this date?" He held it between his fingers.

"A plastic ring?" she asked, gathering their coats and prizes to make room for other patrons. "Quite the treasure there, pirate."

He chuckled. "Why don't we get out of here?" he asked. "I think I could use a walk."

_**I want to wish all my readers and followers a very Merry Christmas. I'll update again after the holiday. Please leave me some feedback and encouragement. It's like candy at Christmas.**_


	54. Chapter 54

Emma waited as Killian seemed to be checking a message on his cell phone, ignoring her for a moment. It was not lost on her that he seemed for a moment to be a typically modern man and they could have been on any street in the realm not just Storybrooke. He was leaned up against the building, one foot propped against the library wall. When she looked at him, wondering who had messaged him, he held up his hook as a way to tell her to wait one moment while he finished reading and responding. She looked down at the teddy bear she was carrying, it was just a simple stuffed animal with cheap plastic features among the polyester and nylon fur.

She tried to remember the last such toy she had owned. There had been some, usually prizes won from games or cheap trinkets that were given to her in group homes from charity groups. She had no memories of holding such a toy to go to sleep, wrapping one in a blanket to pretend it was her baby, or talking in a fake voice to simulate a conversation with a tiny stuffed animal. Everyone was a child at some point, as that was the nature of life. But she wondered if she had ever been childish. Her memories of being young of course included being shorter and going to school, but she had no memories games, toys, and playing make believe with other children. There were moments of course, video games and non-organized sports between other children. Those moments seemed like mirages sometimes.

"Ready?" he asked, breaking her out of her reverie. She nodded, unable to vocalize what she was thinking at that moment. She had been to carnivals, festivals, and amusement parks, but she realized that this was one of the first times that she had allowed herself to be fully immersed. She had not thought once that the moment was fleeting – a built in clock counting down until the moment would be over and reality would sink in and everything would be over. It almost scared her, but not quite. "Everything okay?"

She linked her arm through his, leaning her head on his left shoulder and she walked with him in a slow and steady pace. "I'm good," she said, waiting on the rest of the sentence to form, but it didn't. There was no but in her declaration, no caveat to the fact that her life was going well. She smiled. "Do we have a destination?"

"Of course," he said. "Captain – I don't wander aimlessly." He led them along the streets, stopping periodically at the closed shops to look in the windows at items that were on display. She explained a few to him, electronics mostly and food items that she neither cooked nor were available at Granny's Diner. He made comments, usually positive or funny.

"You're stalling," she said, when they crossed the street to browse in the windows of a book store. "Why?"

"I'm simply appreciating a clear but cold evening with my love," he said, lifting up her hand to his lips and kissing it. "I fail to see that as stalling."

She was quiet for a moment as he looked in the window at a display of books about fairy tales. For a moment she wondered about the ridiculousness of a town full of fairy tale characters wanting to read what other people had written about them. "Just wondering," she said. "We have an empty apartment to ourselves tonight and you're window shopping." She looked at their reflection in the window, smiling at him. "I would have thought you would be rushing back there."

"I'm just…"

"Take a stroll," she said. "Sorry to doubt you." With his hand, he held his phone and briefly looked at it. "Waiting on a call?"

"Checking the time," he said. "Why don't we find a place to sit down?"

She didn't mention that they had a couch in a perfectly warm apartment where they could build a fire, listen to music, and have all the privacy that they wanted. She just kissed his cheek and let him lead her down the street, still stopping and looking in the various windows. Relaxed is not something that she normally felt, but she tried to feel that way with him with more success than she expected. They moved on from the game of what is this to one of what if and I want something like that.

"Victory," he announced, waving his arm wide to gesture at the abandoned patio of Granny's. The lights were off, except a blue glow from a clock that hung above the counter. The strings of lights on the patio were also off, hanging mutely from the posts and blowing slightly in the breeze. "A place to sit," he said, motioning toward the table and chairs where they had sat all those months ago after their journey into the past.

She hesitated a moment. "Granny's is closed," she said, looking at the darkened building. "She probably wouldn't appreciate non-paying people squatting on her patio."

He shrugged. "We're just using a seat," he said. "We won't be long."

She placed the teddy bear on the table and let him pull out her chair. It was important to him. She knew that. While he had told her on more than one occasion that he was a gentleman, he has a need to prove it. She realized that early on and found that she enjoyed his displays whether it was gestures such as pulling out her chair and offering his coat or bringing her flowers because she'd worked a double shift and he missed her.

He took the seat across from her, the metal scraping the concrete as he tried to move the chair a little closer to her. Once he finally settled into place, he leaned back and placed his hand on the cold metal of the table with his rings clanging against it. "Comfortable?" he asked.

She nodded, looking back the darkened windows. "I'd kill for something hot, but otherwise I'm good," she said.

He winked, a smirk curling its way from his lips to his eyes. "I might be able to remedy that, darling," he stated, reaching that same hand under the table. He fished for a moment and pulled up a padded bag with a thermos and two cups. "Hot chocolate, compliments of the Lucas ladies." Pulling out each item, he poured it for her and even brought out a container of cinnamon.

She laughed at his proud expression. "I thought your drink of choice was rum," she said. "Or champagne for a date."

"No ice bucket," he stated, pushing the cup toward her. "And rum didn't seem appropriate."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, as his words seemed foreign. She had not known him to refuse an opportunity for a nip at his flask. "And they just happened to leave this out here for us?"

Head tilted to the side, he presented her with an almost shy smile – again not his normal. "I may have requested it of Ruby when I asked that she leave these chairs down for us." He took a sip, making a face that he always did when he drank something sweet. That was the Killian she knew. "Problem?"

"No," she answered quickly. They both sipped quietly for a time, eyes on each other and the sky. "It's nice," she said, breaking the silence.

"The cocoa?" he asked, coughing nervously. "Or?"

"The company."

He let out a breath, the whiteness floating into the cold night air like smoke. "I had fun tonight," he told her. "This realm has some great traditions, including your candy cotton and funnel cakes."

"Cotton candy," she corrected lightly.

"But my favorite part was seeing you have fun," he said. "Your laugh is one of my favorite sounds in any realm. And when you combine that melodious sound with your competitive nature, I'm a happy man."

"Those games are rigged," she told him.

"We won a few baubles," he reminded her. "Your bear, your eye patch, a balloon in the shape of an animal, a goldfish that you immediately gave back, an overly large plastic flower, a free meal at Granny's, and…"

"Your ring," she finished for him. "Which finger will you put it on?"

Placing his mug on the table, he held up his own hand and studied it. "I think three is enough for one hand," he told her mockingly. "I wouldn't want to be too decorated." Lifting her left hand, he kissed her knuckles and smiled. "Alas you don't even wear a ring. It doesn't seem very fair."

"I'm a little more simple with my accessories," she said, not pulling her hand back from him. "You wear jewelry better than I do."

He chuckled, his eyes looking at her through dark lashes over her raised hand. "I think that a ring might look fetching on you," he said. "Perhaps we should try it out." He dropped her hand softly and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the decorated band.

She let him slip the ring on her finger, nestling it into place. "Beautiful," he declared.

Reluctantly she broke her eye contact with him, looking out at her extended left hand. "That's not…" she said suddenly, recognizing the feel of the metal and the sparkle of the stones as real. "Oh my God…Is that…"

"It's not the ring from the carnival," he confirmed. "But it is yours, if you want it. You see, everything I have is yours – my heart, my soul, my life. I would never deny you anything." He paused, searching her face for an answer to a question he had not even asked. "Love, I have followed and chased you since I have known you. And despite your protests, you have even slowed yourself so that I might catch you on occasion. You have shown me that I don't have to live by a code of retaliation or retribution to find my happy ending. I fought for centuries for not only revenge but to earn the respect and reputation as a fearsome adventurer, but it was never enough. Then I had to fight for you. You don't need protecting or rescuing. You've shown me that. Yet I had still had to fight. I had to fight to win your heart and a place in your life. I had to fight to show you, as well as myself, that I am worthy of your love and affection. And I had to fight to show you that you're capable of being loved because for some reason you have not recognized that in yourself."

"Killian…" she interrupted when he took a deep breath.

"Love, I'm trying to say…" he began again, gripping her hand even tighter.

"Killian," she interrupted again. "Are you proposing to me?"

His face fell a bit. "Why yes, Emma," he said. "That was the purpose of this. I was anticipating asking you for the honor of your hand in marriage."

She smiled, leaning into the table. "I thought so," she said with a nod. "Yes."

He opened his mouth and closed it quickly. "Wait," he said. "I haven't asked yet. Did you just say yes to a question that hasn't been asked?"

She laughed, hauling her hand back and holding it up closer to her face to see the ring there. "Yes," she said, her smile growing at his confused and annoyed expression. "You were taking too long and its cold."

The annoyance disappeared as he watched her smile grow. "You have accused me of being verbose before," he said. "Nevertheless, I was trying to propose to you properly."

She looked up from the ring, smiling sardonically. "Fine," she told him. "Fifty words or less – go!"

The metal chair legs again scraped against the patio as he pushed back and lowered himself to one knee. "You make everything a challenge," he told her. Gripping her hand again, he looked up at her amused and impatient expression. "Emma, I have been in awe of you for as long as I have known you and that has grown into love that I never knew was possible. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" His expression as he looked up to her was hopeful and expectant, his blue eyes shining with anticipation.

"Yes," she said, leaning down to press her lips to his. "Without a doubt, yes."

_**That was harder to write than I thought it would be, but I guess that's because I've only accepted a proposal and never actually asked anyone to marry me. I will have the epilogue up soon. **_


	55. Epilogue - Thank you

Ruby flipped the closed sign around on Granny's so that the party would not be disturbed and amongst the giggling, laughing, and general merriment dipped her hand under the counter to retrieve a bottle of tequila that she had hidden for the occasion. Her smile bright and hips swaying, she walked over to where the women – a collection of fairies, princesses, and others - and pulled the tables together and slammed it down triumphantly.

"Ladies," she said, waving her hands up and down as though quieting the crowd. "I hereby proclaim this bachelorette party underway." A few of the ladies in attendance cheered and others laughed at the formality of her statement.

"What the hell have we been doing for the past hour if that wasn't the party?" Emma asked from her spot at the head of the table.

"Warm up," Ruby declared. "Look, we live in a small town. The guys are treating Hook to his night at the Rabbit Hole so I had to get creative here. Don't think of this as Granny's. This is now a swanky New York club where you can cut loose and show us some of those moves on the dance floor."

Anna laughed loudly. "I have to see that," she announced. "What kind of music do you dance to at a club?" The young woman had managed to avoid such a scene at her own wedding a few months earlier, which had been more stately than simplistic.

"Nobody's turning this place into any club," Granny said, emerging from the kitchen with assorted appetizers on a large tray. "We are simply having a nice quiet party to celebrate our sheriff before she goes off and gets married to a pirate."

Ruby rolled her eyes and nudged Belle. "We did that already," she argued. "We had the bridal shower that Elsa threw. It was nice and had finger sandwiches, silly games, and punch. This is a bachelorette party. We need music, dancing, and lots of alcohol."

Emma's mother reached for one of the glasses that Ruby was pouring and laughed. "I swear, Ruby, if you hired Leroy to come in here in a g-string and dance, I'm out. There's only so much my eyes can take." She winked at her daughter conspiratorially and then laughed to herself at the horrified expression on Emma's face.

"No strippers," Ruby said emphatically. "The list of possibilities of who we would all want to see was low anyway. We'll have to entertain ourselves. And I believe a nice game might do the trick."

Elsa, who was on Emma's right, shook her head. "Ruby, you complained louder than anyone about the games at the shower," she reminded her. "Now you want to play games."

Her dark hair flew over her shoulder as she flashed Elsa a wicked smile. "My games don't include combining the letters of Emma and Killian to make up names for their future children."

"Hey," Elsa said defiantly, raising her chin up like a good royal. "I will have you know that Emma kept that list and it's currently in her bottom drawer of her dresser." She squeezed her blushing friend's hand playfully.

"Research," Emma protested. "It's just for research." Reaching around her hesitant mother's hand, she grabbed the still full shot glass and downed it easily.

Ruby laughed. "Nobody asked, Emma," she teased. "Anyway. We're playing one of my favorites. And with the women here, we're going to have a great time and learn so much about each other." She ignored her grandmother's shaking head and the other women looking up at her nervously. "We're playing truth or dare."

"Oh good grief," Emma said, throwing her head back and looking up at the ceiling. "There are some things I don't want to know about my mother and the other fairy tale princesses."

"Then don't ask the questions if you can't handle the answers," Ruby challenged, pouring more of the liquid into the glasses. "If you don't answer a question and can't handle the dare, you get to do a shot. Of course, if you need a little liquid courage for your answer, shots are free tonight."

Granny shook her head again. "You're never going to turn a profit in this place if you keep this up," she said. "Free food and drinks don't help pay the rent."

The women around the table grumbled and teased each other as they drinks were lined up down the middle and immediately all eyes trained to Emma's flushed face. "Who's first?" the blonde asked. When her mother looked to her for confirmation that she was going to do this, Emma just shrugged. "Might as well," she said in a lower voice. "Everyone in this town is already up in my business anyway."

Ruby squared off her shoulders and stared straight at the sheriff. "I'm asking and you're the first victim," she declared. "Truth or dare?"

Hesitating a moment longer than necessary for effect, Emma rolled her eyes and met Ruby's gaze. "Truth."

Ruby dramatically looking at the women's expectant eyes and then narrowed back on Emma. "First question should be an easy one, so you're lucky," she said. "What song are you embarrassed to say that you like?"

Belle let out a sigh of relief at the question, feeling a weight lifted off of her that maybe the game wouldn't be too bad. But Emma sat there thoughtfully, her hands running palm side on the edge of the table. "Wow," she said. "Weird question." She pursed her lips and ignored Ruby's impatient grunt. "Fine. Toxic by Britney Spears."

The questions remained tame for the first couple of rounds, each woman looking more relieved and comfortable at the ease of which the game went. When Ruby was asked, she was the first to request a dare, which ended up being a prank phone call to David. She wasn't even sure if he fully understood the prank since he was currently at the Rabbit Hole with Killian and the other men. But the women still laughed at the very idea of such a silly dare.

"Emma," she said, as she clicked off the phone. Her voice was lower and slightly dripping with a challenge. "Truth or Dare?

Emma could sense a change in the demeanor and swallowed. "Truth," she responded. She'd already told the ladies that she would not do a dare, as she felt her role as sheriff might interfere with such shenanigans.

Ruby licked her lips and tilted her head. "When was the first time with Hook?" she asked, eliciting a few giggles and gasps from the other ladies.

"I don't want to hear this," Mary Margaret declared, leaning over to nestle herself against Granny's chest. "I don't want to think about my daughter and anyone…"

"You realize she already has a kid," Aurora said from across the table. "She's not a virgin bride."

Emma shot her mother a sympathetic look and patted her arm. "Poor Mom thinks there was a star in the east when Henry was born." She pulled her hand back and looked Ruby in the eye. "How much detail do you expect me to give?"

"Time, place, and anything kinky you'd like to share," Ruby answered, as though she was ordering from the menu.

"And did he keep the hook on during?" Belle asked, blushing when everyone turned to gape at her.

***AAA***

Emma had walked her mother to the loft, the woman having drank more than her daughter in the game that lasted over two hours. All of the women had laughed and teased that they would never look at each other the same again, especially not Granny whose answers were always shocking and more than a little risqué. There were also cell phone photos that Emma was sure could be sold for blackmail, including one of her own mother streaking out on the patio of the restaurant.

"I'm glad you're my daughter," Mary Margaret slurred as Emma held her up in one arm and unlocked the door with the other. "You are a good daughter."

"Thanks, Mom," Emma said as she flung open the door and dragged the mayor inside. "You do know you're drunk."

"I am?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice sounding desperate.

"It would appear that way," David answered from the kitchen. "Good thing I'm making a huge pot of coffee." He stepped forward to grab his wife who was teetering around the coffee table with the declaration that she wanted to find a good spot. "I believe most of Storybrooke will be hung over at the ceremony tomorrow or today. What time is it?"

"We should have sprung for personalized barf bags," Emma said with a shake of her head. Looking up the stairs to where a light was shining lowly, she smiled again. "Did you manage to bring the groom back here or did he make a break for it?"

David lowered his wife onto the couch and managed to avoid her grabbing hands that wanted him to join her. "Hook is upstairs sleeping off copious amounts of rum. But I'd wager that he'll be in better shape than most of the dwarves, Jefferson, Will, Robin, and Marco."

"Oh…" Mary Margaret trilled from the couch. "Marco drank. I bet he's a sweet drunk."

Emma laughed under her breath. "Well I'm going back to the apartment," she announced. "Morning is going to come early." She reached down and pulled the throw blanket over her mother before turning toward the door. "Good night."

David poured a cup of coffee for his wife, considering briefly putting it in a sippy cup with her current state of coordination. "Don't worry about work," he told her. "Calls are coming to me tonight. And Robin's going to handle them tomorrow during the wedding and reception. You just go get your beauty sleep."

She watched him cradle her mother's head and insist that the swallow two aspirin before the coffee. "You're being pretty cool about this," she told her father. "I had images of your challenging Killian to some sort of sword fight or tying him up so he couldn't get to the wedding."

"I've entertained the idea," David admitted. "It sounds cliché, but you're my daughter. You're getting married to a man who loves you and you love him. Misgivings about his former occupation are just that. I am not about to try to force you away from a man who truly makes you happy. Now I might have a moment of weakness at the ceremony when I go to give you away, but I'm strong. I can do it."

She smiled brightly. "You know, Dad," she said, gripping the back of the chair where a little over a year earlier she had sat shivering as Killian held her after the escape from the ice wall. "I never really used to picture my wedding day as a kid. I know some girls do that and put curtains on their heads to act like the veil. I had a friend who had a whole notebook of details of what she wanted in a wedding. She wasn't even dating anyone." His quiet nod encouraged her. "So while I thought about the white dress and the flowers, I never pictured my father walking me down the aisle. It might be a little old fashioned, but I'm glad you are doing that. You've been the biggest supporter, along with mom, for me to finally be okay enough to try to make it work with Killian. You never let me feel like there was something wrong with me just because I was scared."

David looked down at his wife whose eyes had fluttered shut and breathing leveled out. Casting aside the coffee mug, he smiled at his daughter. "Emma," he said in his best fatherly voice. "I don't know anyone who hasn't been scared before marrying their true love. Even the most pure of true love doesn't make you immune from the fear. Sometimes I think it even heightens it. We feel so strongly, love so deeply, but we also know that if we lose that love, the pain will be that much worse. It is a scary proposition. But you can't go into a relationship or marriage with thoughts about the pain at the end of it. You go in with the happiness of what you have already experienced and the hope for what is yet to come."

"Sounds simple," she said.

"Does it?" he asked. "It's not. The bravest of men can't always handle it. It's easier to hide from it, pretend that we don't really care or that there are a thousand reasons why it won't work out. We can be very convincing to ourselves. So the fact that you and Hook were willing to try and both willing to spend your lives together is nothing to sneeze at. You're simply showing the world that you are the courageous and strong woman I always wanted you to be and you've found the partner to make that part of you even better."

With his wife's legs draped over his lap, he could not get up and embrace his daughter. So she came to him, leaning down to kiss his cheek and hug him tightly. "I love you, Dad," she said. Before he could respond, she waved and let herself out the door.

***AAA***

Elsa and Mary Margaret had battled their varying degrees of hang overs to cook Emma breakfast, but they needn't have bothered. Granny sent over a foam container of pancakes with a note saying that she would include the charge in the bill for the reception catering. Unable to convince any of the women that she wasn't hungry, Emma took alternating bites from each plate and then recruited Henry to help her finish. That seemed to satisfy her mother who had excused herself to the bathroom to gather the items needed to help Emma get ready and Elsa who had run across the way to her own apartment to get ready. "You're going to the loft, right?" she asked him as he shoved another strip of bacon in his mouth. "The men are getting ready there?"

"Yep," he said. "I should leave soon. Dad and Killian alone in the loft – probably a recipe for disaster. But maybe they'll be on their best behavior." Emma smiled at her son's optimistic outlook.

"Before you go," she said, slowly rising from her chair and pulling open a drawer in the kitchen. "I have something for you and I wanted to talk to you. Once we get to the ceremony there won't be time."

Henry eyed the wrapped package in her hand. "You're not supposed to give gifts today, mom," he reminded her. "That's not how this works."

"This is special," she said, putting the gold package in front of him. "I have had it for a while and was looking for the right time to give it to you. And today seems like it."

Henry curbed his teenage tendencies and carefully peeled back the wrapping paper on the small bundle. He could see his mother's nervous eyes watching him, wondering about his reaction. Inside was a framed copy of the photo she had kept in her memory box. His mother and father were there in it, smiling at each other and looking very much like a young couple in love. Though his interaction with his father had been limited and sparse, he had never seen them look at each other that way. He smiled back at the couple who had no way of knowing what was about to happen to them.

"I wanted you to have something that would help keep your dad in your memory," she told him. "You have been more than great about the wedding and even when Killian first moved in here with us. I don't know if I could have…"

"Mom," Henry interrupted. "You loved my father. You love Killian. You deserve to be happy. That's what I want for you. Thank you for this photo. I'm glad to know that there were happy days for you and my dad."

She kissed her son's forehead and brought her hand up to his cheek. "We were happy," she told him. "And the best part of that is you. You're my reminder of how great things come from love." Pulling back, she wiped her tears from her own cheeks and smiled a wavering grin at her growing son. "I love you, kid," she told him. "Thank you for being patient with me while I figured that out."

Mary Margaret's voice came back into the room. "We've all be patient with each other," she told her daughter and grandson. "God knows that none of us had a clue how any of this was supposed to work. How was I going to be a mother to a daughter who is my same age? How could I be a grandmother when I hadn't even changed a diaper yet? Where were we going to live? What would we call each other? Why did it all seem so hard sometimes?"

Emma chuckled as her mother embraced both her and her son. "Do we have any of those answers yet?" she asked.

"We're working on them," Mary Margaret insisted. "But days like today remind me why we have to work so hard."

"She's going to start talking about hope again," Henry warned his mother. "It's her trademark."

Mary Margaret cleared her throat and pulled her head back to look at the two. "Don't let her fool you, Henry," she said. "Your mom believes very strongly in hope too."

***AAA***

Emma and Killian were married on the beach with most of the town in attendance. It was a larger crowd than Emma had wanted originally, but everyone had been so insistent and nobody turned down the invitation. Killian had joked that they just wanted to take bets on how long before she took off running.

Even with all those in attendance, the ceremony was relatively simple and sweet. Emma had rejected a large traditional gown for a sleeker version and wore her a comb in her hair that had belonged to her grandmother. Elsa had served as the maid of honor and Henry served as Killian's best man, both of whom beamed at the couple as they took their vows over Mary Margaret's occasional sobs. David had even managed to give the bride away, holding on just a second longer than necessary when he went to place his daughter's hand in Killian's.

The audience ooohed and aaahed over her dress, the way Killian kissed her hand when she stood there next to him, the sweet honesty of the written vows, and the hug that Elsa and Emma shared when she handed her friend the bouquet to hold. Most laughed or whooped when Killian said an exasperated, "finally," once he was instructed to kiss his bride. And few complained when the couple took a few minutes extra to themselves before attending the reception.

"You don't look hung over," she told him the moment they were alone. "I guess you can handle your rum."

"Pirate," he reminded her, kissing the corner of her mouth. "I could say the same for you, but what was your drink of choice?"

"Ruby kept us going in tequila," Emma admitted, her hands settling on his lapels as she pulled him closer. "And while you brag about it, I've done my fair share of drinking. I can handle it."

"We make quite a pair," he chuckled. "But I must ask how you are holding up, Mrs. Jones?"

Pursing her lips, she stood still a moment. "I like the sound of that," she admitted. "Thankfully you have a last name I can live with instead of some multi-syllable monstrosity that I'd spend the rest of my life trying to explain to people how to spell it."

"So that's why you married me?" he asked, cocking an eye brow. "My name?"

"I've told you there is a long list of reasons," she said. "I had to do a pro and con list." She sighed into their next kiss, his playfulness becoming a bit more passionate as his teeth grazed over her bottom lip, tugging a bit and the laving the area with his tongue.

"And I have not been given access to this list?" he asked.

"Remind me to introduce you to a television show called Friends," she said before his lips descended again. "You'll find out why it is a bad idea to share such lists."

His mouth came back at her hard, stumbling both their bodies toward the wall with its force. She didn't protest, and allowed the connection to continue briefly until she could picture her parents' anxious faces waiting on them to arrive at the park where they were having their reception. She pulled away from him, gasping a bit and wishing that she had more time.

"We need to go," she said. "I don't want to, but we…"

His hand was lightly cupping her jaw, fingers playing in the carefully set curls of her hair. "Lead the way, love," he told her, not moving from the spot. She finally grasped the collar of his jacket and pulled him along beside her. She allowed him to stop a few times for another kiss, but she was careful to avoid too many delays.

As they approached the hill where the reception was set up, Killian stopped and looked in the direction of his father-in-law, who appeared to be having a very serious conversation with Henry. "Your father appears to be a bit vexed," he said, worry creeping into his voice. "I was hoping to avoid that today."

"Cut him some slack," Emma said, running a hand down his chest lovingly. "He had to give away his daughter to a pirate and his best mate to a prickly princess. It's been a hard day for him."

While Belle and Ruby laughed in as they sat perched on the bench of one of the picnic tables, talking about the waitress's plans to be the one to snag the bridal bouquet, Leroy and Will, who had tried and failed to start a conga line, carried on the tradition of making the couple kiss each time someone clinked their glass with a utensil. Killian did not mind, as even if he was in the middle of a conversation with a well-wisher, he turned and kissed his bride happily. There were a few comments from the single women in attendance that there was one bachelor fewer in town. Even Granny commented that had she known that Killian could look so dapper at the wedding that she might have given Emma a run for her money.

However, most of the comments were about the bride. It wasn't the simple dress or the earrings that her mother had bought her as a present. It wasn't jokes that she shared with Killian or the fact that she had asked him four times before the cake arrived where exactly were they going on their honeymoon. Instead they talked about the way her smiles came easier now, the laughter less stilted and the way her eyes danced whenever she was in his sight. Emma was happy. And as David told Mary Margaret, as they watched their daughter dancing with her husband and sharing another joke about partners knowing what they are doing, that was all they could ask for in life – a happy beginning for their daughter and her true love.

_**Wow – this was originally going to be a 10 or 15 chapter fic. But it has come out to 55 chapters, more than 35,000 views, more than a hundred comments/reviews, lots of followers, and favorites. I wish I could thank you all individually who have liked it, commented on it, offered suggestions, and just smiled when I updated. I have enjoyed writing this and loved the reception it has received. **_

_**I do have another story in the works, but I'll let things settle down a little before I begin to post it. I also am thinking about a sequel to this one, but I have to flesh that out in my mind a little bit. **_

_**So for old times sake, please review. I would love to know what you think. **_


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